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THE  GIFT  OF 

FLORENCE  V.  V.  DICKEY 

TO  THE 

UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA 
AT  LOS  ANGELES 


ta^agSSoa 


THE  DONALD  R.  DICKEY 

LIBRARY 
OF  VERTEBRATE  ZOOLOGY 


RECOLLECTIONS 
OF     A     SAVAGE 


EuwiN  A.  Ward. 


RECOLLECTIONS 

OF  A   SAVAGE 

BY 
EDWIN   A.  WARD 


NEW    YORK 

FREDERICK  A.   STOKES  COMPANY 

PUBLISHERS 


Printed  in  Great  Britain  at 
The  Mayflower  Press,  Plymouth.     William  Brendon  &  Son,  Ltd. 


f  ^' 


y-fz 


TO   MY  DEAR   SON 

FRANCIS 

THESE    BITS   o'  STORIES  ARE   INSCRIBED 

SHOULD   THEY   FIND   ANY   FAVOUR 

IT  IS  ALL  OWING  TO  FRANCIS 

HIS   BE   THE    PRAISE — AND   THE    BLAME 


-B — Gtm 


FOREWORD 

IN  the  beginning  this  was  just  a  jumble  of 
stories  of  the  famous  folk  with  whom  I 
happened  to  have  been  brought  in  contact 
during  the  course  of  my  career  as  a  portrait 
painter. 

Also  it  included  some  Savage  Club  experiences — 
with  a  few  words  relative  to  travel  in  the  Far  East 
and  British  Columbia. 

Mr.  Herbert  Jenkins  agreed  to  publish  this,  but 
he  insisted  upon  much  more  material  about  the 
Savage  Club,  saying,  "  I  have  only  been  inside 
the  Club  on  very  few  occasions,  but  I  was  deeply 
impressed  by  the  type  of  man  you  meet  there — 
workers  every  one  of  them — remarkable  men  who 
had  made  good  in  their  various  callings." 

He  followed  this  by  pages  and  pages  of  helpful 
suggestion  and  encouragement,  adding,  "  I  have 
had  an  inspiration :  you  must  call  it — "  Recollec- 
tions of  a  Savage." 

I  was  fortunate  in  finding  a  friend  in  my  publisher. 

I  was  also  lucky  in  my  Pilot.  When  the  words 
refused  to  arrange  themselves,  he  helped  me  in 
the  navigating  of  difficult  passages ;  without  Boyd 
Cable's  experienced  guidance  my  little  ship  might 
easily  have  failed  to  find  her  moorings. 

vii 


viii  FOREWORD 

I  am  indebted  to  Lady  Shannon  for  permission 
to  use  the  reproduction  of  the  wonderful  portrait 
of  Phil  May,  painted  by  the  late  Sir  James  J. 
Shannon,  R.A.  Shannon  was  my  hfelong  friend 
and  we  still  mourn  his  loss — a  great  artist  and  a 
great  gentleman. 

The  Committee  of  the  Reform  Club  granted  me 
access  to  the  collection  of  portraits  painted  by  me 
and  presented  to  the  Club  by  Sir  Henry  Lucy,  to 
whom  I  am  indebted  for  permission  to  reproduce 
some  of  them  here. 

The  Savage  Club  generously  gave  me  carte 
blanche  to  use  any  material  in  their  possession,  and 
in  availing  myself  of  this  I  am  indebted  to  my 
brother  Savage,  Joseph  Simpson,  R.B.A.  ;  also  to 
W.  H.  Bartlett,  R.O.L,  for  allowing  me  to  reproduce 
his  picture  "  A  Saturday  Night  at  the  Savage  Club." 

When  my  old  friend  Fred  Grundy  writes  his 
book  (now  he  can  write),  the  Savage  Club  will  be 
adequately  dealt  with. 

So  far  as  it  was  possible  he  has  corrected  my 
proofs.  The  parts  he  deleted  I  intend  to  keep  by 
me — they  were  by  far  the  best  bits  in  the  book. 

THE   AUTHOR. 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

I.      THE   SAVAGE   CLUB 


II. 


III. 


IV. 
V. 


VI. 


VII. 

VIII. 

IX. 

X. 

XI. 

XII. 

XIII. 

XIV. 


MR.    ODELL- 
CLEARY 


-PHIL    MAY — BILLY    PIKE — EDWIN 


THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY — EDWARD  VII  AND 
OSCAR  WILDE — GEORGE  ALEXANDER  AND 
OSCAR  WILDE — THE  MAN  WHO  WOULD  BE 
AN   R.A. — W.    E.    F.    BRITTEN 

THE   RAID    ON   READING  .... 

CHURCH  AND  CHAPEL  IN  YORKSHIRE  IN  1882 
— MY  EARLY  ATTEMPTS  TO  BE  AN  ARTIST — 
A  PROPHET  IN  HIS  OWN  COUNTRY — THE 
MARSHALLS — I   GO  TO  LONDON     . 

MR.  AND  MRS.  BOYES — SIR  HENRY  LUCY — THE 
PORTRAIT  THAT  STOOD  ON  ITS  HEAD — MR. 
MEAKIN's  PICTURE — THE  PORTRAIT  WHICH 
WAS  REFUSED — "  SPY  " — I  RETURN  TO  RET- 
FORD— GEORGE   MARSHALL 

CHELSEA       . 

THE  STORY  OF  SALLY 

EASTWARD  HO  !  . 

BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD 

EAST  AND  WEST 

JAPAN 

JAPAN — continued 

ALFRED  HARMSWORTH,  VISCOUNT  NORTHCLIFFE 

ix 


PAGE 

I 


16 


48 
58 


70 


80 
96 

122 
138 

168 
184 
202 


CONTENTS 


CHAPTER 

XV.      CECIL   RHODES   AND   EARL   OF  ABERDEEN 
XVL      SOME   OF   MY   SITTERS — AND   OTHERS 
XVII.      WHISTLER 
XVIII.      BRITISH   COLUMBIA 
XIX.      THE   "  PUNCH   BOWL  " 
LAST  WORD 

INDEX 


PAGE 

2l8 

237 
256 

269 

286 

296 

297 


ILLUSTRATIONS 


Edwin  A.  Ward    ..... 

A  Savage  Club  Saturday  Night 

Sir  Henry  Irving  as  "  Mephistopheles  "   . 

E.  J.  OdeU 

E,  J.  OdeU,  Savage  Club  House  Dinner   . 

Phil  May 

Edwin  Cleary        ..... 

Wyfold  Court 

"  Dawn  " — Old  Chelsea  Churchyard 

"  Little  SaUy" 

St.  John  Harmsworth    .... 
Japanese  Lady     ..... 
The  Rt.  Hon.  Joseph  Chamberlain 
W.  T.  Stead  ..... 

The  Most  Hon.  The  Marquess  of  Aberdeen  and 
Temair      ...... 

The  Rt.  Hon.  Lord  Randolph  S.  Churchill 

The  Rt.  Hon.  Winston  S.  Churchill,  C.H. 

Henry  Labouchere  ("  Truth  ") 

Sir  John  Tenniel  ("  Punch  ") . 

The  Rt.  Hon.  Lord  Russell  of  Killowen,  Lord 

Chief  Justice  of  England     . 
Whistler       ...... 


• 

Frontispiece 

To  face  pagt 

6 

12 

i8 

24 

9> 

>> 

32 

38 

58 

98 

114 

166 

198 

224 

228 

232 

238 

240 

242 

248 

252 

267 


RECOLLECTIONS 

; OF  A  SAVAGE  . 


CHAPTER  I 

THE   SAVAGE   CLUB 

THE  Savage  Club  has  been  described  as  "  a 
Club  very  highly  thought  of  by  people 
not  belonging  to  it,"  yet  thirty  years  ago 
it  was  considered  a  very  great  distinction 
to  be  invited  to  become  a  member.  When  Charles 
Furse,  the  well-known  painter,  was  elected  about 
that  time,  for  some  reason  best  known  to  himself, 
he  did  not  feel  quite  at  home  there,  and  he  told  me 
there  was  some  talk  of  founding  a  new  Club  for 
people  who  could  not  get  into  the  Savile  and  did 
not  care  to  belong  to  the  Savage — it  was  to  be 
called  the  "  Salvage." 

As  a  matter  of  fact,  I  have  never  mixed  in  any 
community  where  such  absolute  equality  reigns. 
Famous  or  neglected,  rich  or  poor,  shabby  or  elegant, 
you  hang  up  your  halo  with  your  hat  in  the  hall. 
Any  man  who  presumes  on  his  wealth,  or  fancies 
himself  for  better  or  worse,  would  be  wise  to  keep 
away  ;   the  Savage  Club  is  no  place  for  him,  and  he 


2  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

is  promptly  made  aware  of  the  fact  in  unmistakable 
manner. 

Bohemia  is  only  dangerous  to  people  who  are 
able  to  afford  to  make  an  occupation  of  what  is 
intended  to  be  merely  a  relaxation.  All  the  best 
Savages  I  have  known  during  thirty-four  years  of 
membership  have  been  distinguished  in  art,  science, 
literature,  music  or  the  drama,  and  if  they  knew 
how  to  play  they  knew  also  how  to  work.  They 
were  vigorous  people  who  ate  well,  drank  well  and 
stuck  to  their  job,  whatever  it  was.  If  you  want 
help  or  advice  of  any  kind,  I  know  no  better  place 
than  the  Savage  Club.  Some  of  the  stories  you  hear 
are  unsuitable  for  circulation  in  a  kindergarten,  but 
no  one  is  compelled  to  take  part  in  a  conversation 
that  is  distasteful  to  him. 

On  one  occasion  a  certain  number  of  cerulean 
stories  had  been  going  the  round  of  the  bar,  when 
Mr.  Odell  (who  I  am  bound  to  say  in  all  the  years  I 
have  known  him  has  never  been  guilty  of  any 
incursion  into  matters  relating  to  the  sexes)  suddenly 
astonished  the  assembly  by  blurting  out :  "I  also 
had  an  assignation." 

There  was  silence  in  a  moment.  We  were  at  last 
to  hear  the  seamy  side  to  Odell's  past.  He  held  the 
floor  immediately,  as  he  always  does. 

"  To  be  brief,  I  was  in  bed  with  the  lady,  and  for 
some  reason  which  I  could  not  explain,  I  was  sleep- 
less and  restless.  Whether  it  was  the  blossom  beating 
against  the  casement  or  the  song  of  the  birds  in  the 
bushes,  I  know  not,  until  it  dawned  upon  me  that 
perhaps,  after  all,  it  might  proceed  from  the  lady 
at  my  side ;  for  she  not  only  slept  but  she  also  snored. 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  3 

"  The  room  was  furnished  with  the  greatest 
elegance,  and  on  the  dressing-table  close  at  hand 
stood  a  little  Dresden  box.  ...  It  was  the  work  of 
a  moment ;  I  lifted  the  lid  of  the  porcelain  box, 
extracted  a  pin  and  popped  it  into  the  open  mouth 
of  my  companion.  She  shrieked — she  awoke — 
she  aroused  the  inmates  of  the  house — and  I  was 
never  allowed  to  sleep  with  that  lady  again. 

"  The  disgraceful  part  of  the  story  is  that  the 
lady  was  my  aunt,"  and  as  he  slowly  sauntered 
out  of  the  room,  Odell  added,  "  I  was  two  years 
of  age." 

The  Savage  Club  appears  to  have  been  founded 
in  1857,  ^^<i  grew  out  of  the  gatherings  of  a  small 
group  of  literary  men — a  little  society  pledged  to 
the  production  of  a  magazine  with  the  object  of 
providing  for  the  relief  of  the  widow  of  a  fellow 
member,  "  who  wept  in  the  anguish  of  sudden  and 
unexpected  bereavement  "  and  who  needed  help 
in  her  time  of  trouble. 

The  origin  of  the  name  was  due  to  a  suggestion 
made  at  a  meeting  of  some  dozen  of  the  original 
members  when  it  became  a  question  of  what  the 
Club  should  be  called.  "  The  Addison  "  was 
suggested.  "The  Goldsmith  "—"  The  Johnson" 
— but  these  names  being  thought  too  grand,  a 
member  called  out  "  The  Savage,"  and  so  in  frolic- 
some mood  our  little  society  was  christened  the 
Savage  Club. 

The  famous  old  Club  does  not  rely  on  the 
antiquity  of  its  foundation  for  its  world-wide 
celebrity,  but  rather  upon  the  individuals  forming 


4  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

the  component  parts  of  its  membership.  When 
I  was  elected  thirty-four  years  ago,  several  of 
the  founders  were  still  prominent  as  regular 
habitues.  Between  dusk  and  dinner  time  on  any 
afternoon  you  met  much  that  was  best  and 
brightest  in  intellectual  London — a  group  of  men 
each  unit  distinguished  in  his  calling  and  giving 
freely  of  his  best ;  stout  fellows  all,  worth  hearing 
upon  any  topic.  No  theme  was  barred  out  of  which 
fun  or  interest  could  be  extracted.  But  woe  betide 
the  novice  who  all  unmindful  of  his  doom  ventured 
to  flounder  "  where  angels  fear  to  tread  " — he  was 
liable  to  emerge  from  the  experience  very  suitably 
chastened,  though  on  the  whole,  consideration 
and  kindness  were  extended  to  the  "  tenderfoot  " 
until  the  time  was  ripe  for  him  to  walk  alone,  and 
if  he  found  himself  unable  to  make  good  in  the 
robust  atmosphere  of  the  Club,  he  usually  had  the 
wisdom  to  listen  and  learn  his  lesson  like  a  good 
little  Savage. 

The  preliminaries  to  candidature  were  not  con- 
ducive to  the  inclusion  of  unsuitable  or  undesirable 
elements.  In  those  days  to  be  eligible  a  man 
required  the  support  of  a  group  of  members  who 
could  vouch  for  the  quality  of  his  contributions 
to  science,  art,  music,  the  drama  or  literature. 
In  addition  to  this,  his  social  worth  had  to  be 
guaranteed — his  sponsors  appearing  before  a 
Qualification  Committee,  apart  from  the  ordinary 
committee  elected  from  the  membership  for  the 
management  of  the  Club,  before  whom  the  proposer 
and  seconders  had  again  to  appear  in  support  of 
their  candidate  whose  name  had  occupied  a  place 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  5 

on  the  waiting  list,  which  was  usually  a  very  long 
one. 

When  at  last  his  turn  came,  the  candidate  was 
duly  notified  that  he  was  admitted  as  a  probationer 
for  one  month,  during  which  time  it  was  expected 
that  he  would  attend  and  make  as  much  use  of  the 
Club  as  possible  with  all  the  privileges  of  a  temporary 
member.  If,  at  the  expiration  of  this  probationer- 
ship,  the  candidate  had  satisfied  the  committee  that 
he  would  worthily  uphold  the  traditions  and  good 
name  of  the  Savage  Club,  he  was  received  and 
invested  with  all  the  honours  and  privileges  of 
full  membership. 

The  original  group  of  remarkable  men  who 
founded  the  Club  included  such  honoured  names 
as  W.  B.  Tegetmeyer,  George  Augustus  Sala, 
Artemus  Ward,  George  Grossmith  (the  eldest), 
Henry  S.  Leigh,  Arthur  Sketchley,  Tom  Robertson, 
Harrison  Weir,  Lionel  Brough,  W.  S.  Gilbert. 

But  abler  pens  than  mine  have  recorded  the  annals 
of  the  famous  Club — Aaron  Watson,  J.  E.  P. 
Muddock  and  E.  W.  Richardson  have  each  pub- 
lished works  of  great  interest  on  this  subject. 

No  reference  to  the  Club  would  be  complete 
without  the  classic  story  of  "  the  new  Knight." 
It  is  not  new,  it  has  been  told  and  retold  a  thousand 
times — but  it  can  never  be  omitted  from  any  list 
of  stories  which  attempts,  however  inadequately, 
to  catch  the  spirit  of  the  "  Savages." 

A  big  man — "  well  found  " — with  a  palatial 
residence  standing  in  its  own  grounds,  and  a  full 
and  adequate  sense  of  what  was  due  to  him,  had 
received  the  honour  of  knighthood  in  recognition 


6  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

of  valued  service  in  connection  with  the  foundation 
of  that  imposing  edifice  known  as  the  Colonial 
Institute.  As  was  proper  and  just,  he  lost  no  time, 
but  hastened,  swelling  with  his  full-blown  dignity, 
to  visit  the  Savage  Club  and  receive  his  meed  of 
robust  congratulation  from  his  fellow-members 
gathered  around  the  bar. 

"  Now  boys  !  Please  understand  that  this  new 
honour  conferred  upon  me  by  our  sovereign  will 
make  no  earthly  difference  in  our  relations.  The 
same  old  hearty  welcome  awaits  you.  Her  Lady- 
ship and  myself  will  be  just  as  delighted  to  see  you 
as  in  the  old  days  and  you  will  find  us  in  the  same 
home — you  know  the  place,  '  Vine  Court.'  " 

A  seedy  old  fellow  in  the  corner  enquired 
drowsily,  "  What  number  ?  " 

King  Edward,  when  Prince  of  Wales,  honoured 
the  Club  by  his  presence  and  became  the  first  royal 
"  brother  Savage." 

King  George,  before  he  ascended  the  throne, 
conferred  upon  it  a  similar  gracious  distinction. 
On  the  occasion  when  his  name  was  enrolled  he  was 
present  at  a  House  Dinner  and  spent  a  long  evening 
with  which  he  expressed  himself  as  having  been 
delighted.  He  was  about  to  take  leave  of  his 
brother  Savages  when  he  turned  to  Frederick 
Grundy,  who  had  officiated  as  the  Club's  repre- 
sentative member  during  the  evening,  and  enquired  : 
"  Now  is  there  any  custom  with  which  I  have 
omitted  to  conform  before  I  say  good  night  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  one  thing  still  remains  to  be  done. 
You  have  not  yet  taken  a  drink  at  the  bar." 


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1)    SJ 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  7 

To  this  King  George  responded  with  alacrity, 
and  he  was  straightway  conducted  to  the  North- 
west Room,  where  the  omission  was  duly  rectified. 

Our  present  Prince  of  Wales  honoured  us  in  like 
fashion,  and  while  taking  his  Stirrup  Cup  at  the 
bar  his  quick  eye  caught  sight  of  the  list  of  names 
pinned  to  the  wall  for  the  Derby  Sweep,  and 
instantly  claimed  his  privilege  as  a  brother  Savage 
to  add  his  name  to  the  list.  I  am  sure  I  am  voicing 
the  thoughts  of  his  brother  Savages  in  saying  that 
every  member  present  wished  with  all  his  heart 
that  the  Prince  would  draw  the  winning  number. 

The  Club  has  also  experienced  its  tragedies. 
George  Grossmith  (grandfather  of  the  present 
George  Grossmith),  and  the  most  famous  humorous 
entertainer  of  his  day,  died  while  officiating  as 
Chairman  at  a  Saturday  House  Dinner. 

I  was  not  present,  as  it  was  before  my  time,  but 
the  story  was  related  to  me  by  an  old  member  who 
was  there  that  evening.  Grossmith  in  his  capacity 
as  Chairman  had  called  upon  a  brother  Savage 
to  perform  at  the  piano.  The  pianist  hesitating, 
as  he  seated  himself  before  the  keyboard,  enquired 
of  his  audience,  "  What  shall  I  play  ?  "  Some 
member  shouted  ironically,  "  Play  the  *  Dead 
March  in  Saul,'  "  which  he  proceeded  to  do,  but 
before  it  was  concluded,  George  Grossmith  was 
observed  to  collapse  in  his  chair  and,  to  the  horror 
and  dismay  of  all  present,  it  was  discovered  that 
he  was  dead. 

A  similar  sad  episode  was  enacted  during  the  term 
of  my  membership,  though  I  am  thankful  to  say 
that  although   in    the   Club    that   evening,  at   the 


8  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

tragic  moment  I  was  not  in  the  room.  Charles 
Arnold,  famous  as  "  Hans  the  Boatman "  and 
leading  man  with  Minnie  Palmer,  was  an  accom- 
plished actor  and  singer  who  had  retired  from  the 
stage,  while  still  a  comparatively  young  man, 
with  an  ample  fortune.  He  was  a  regular  contributor 
to  our  entertainment  at  the  Weekly  House  Dinners 
and  had  been  called  upon  to  sing.  While  in  the 
middle  of  his  song,  standing  by  the  piano  before 
a  crowded  room,  he  suddenly  faltered,  and  sinking 
to  the  floor  expired  where  he  fell. 

The  Savage  Club  has  always  made  rather  a  feature 
of  its  funerals.  To  mark  the  solemnity  of  the  passing 
of  each  Brother  Savage,  it  is  a  time-honoured  practice 
of  the  Club  to  assemble  as  many  of  its  members  as 
possible  for  the  last  sad  ceremony. 

In  each  case  a  wreath  of  flowers  is  forwarded 
from  the  Club,  for  the  purchase  of  which  the  sum 
of  one  guinea  is  allocated.  The  observance  of  this 
long  established  tribute  was  only  once  called  in 
question. 

A  fiery,  irresponsible  little  Irish  Colonel  of  West 
Indian  Artillery,  finding  his  modest  pension  all  too 
slender  for  his  daily  needs,  wrote  to  the  Club 
Committee  suggesting  that  as  he  was  in  immediate 
and  pressing  need  of  the  money,  they  might  forward 
him  this  guinea  forthwith,  in  consideration  of  which 
he  would  cheerfully  waive  all  rights  to  the  customary 
wreath  at  his  decease. 

The  Committee  in  their  reply  regretted  they 
had  no  power  to  anticipate  an  occasion  of  this 
character. 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  9 

We  had  suffered  the  loss  of  a  member  deservedly 
popular,  and  for  the  last  melancholy  rite  of  respect, 
as  was  expected,  a  large  number  of  "  Savages  " 
wended  their  way  to  Kensal  Green  in  tribute  to  his 
memory.  As  is  usual  on  these  occasions  the  mourners 
assembled  on  their  return  in  the  North- West  Room  at 
the  Club  to  exchange  kindly  memories  with  many 
a  silent  toast  to  the  departed. 

Later  in  the  afternoon  an  elderly  and  highly 
esteemed  member  who  had  been  a  very  warm  and 
close  friend  of  the  deceased  entered  the  room 
dejectedly  and  obviously  labouring  under  deep 
but  suppressed  emotion.  Joining  the  throng  gathered 
around  the  bar  he  ventured  to  express  a  little  surprise 
that  with  so  many  members  at  present  in  town  there 
had  been  such  a  meagre  gathering  of  Savages  at 
the  grave  side 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,"  he  added  sadly,  "  I  was  the 
only  member  of  the  Club  present  at  the  funeral 
of  our  dear  old  friend." 

This  immediately  aroused  a  chorus  of  indignant 
protest,  and  upon  explanations  being  forthcoming 
it  was  clearly  established  that  the  dear  old  man, 
blinded  by  his  grief,  had  mistaken  his  directions — 
followed  the  wrong  funeral,  and  wept  into  the  wrong 
grave. 

Bart  Kennedy  and  I  were  the  only  occupants  of 
the  bar  one  afternoon.  He  was  then  a  compara- 
tively new  member,  and  I  had  not  become  thorouglily 
acchmatized  to  his  robustness  of  speech,  and  in  fact 
felt  a  little  shy  of  him  in  consequence.  We  had 
hardly  ever  spoken  to  each  other,  and  I  was  quite 
unaware  that  he  was  even  familiar  with  my  name. 


10         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Presently  in  came  dear  old  Billy  Barrett  attired 
in  deep  mourning. 

"  Where  have  you  been,  Billy?  "  enquired  Bart. 

"  As  a  matter  of  fact,  dear  boy,"  replied  Billy,  "  I 
have  just  returned  from  the  funeral  of  a  great  friend 
of  mine,  James  Orrock." 

"  Who  was  he,  Billy  ?  " 

**  Well,  for  one  thing,  he  was  a  very  old  and 
highly  esteemed  member  of  this  Club — a  dear  friend 
of  mine,  and  a  celebrated  collector  of  old  china  and 
antique  furniture.  He  also  bought  many  famous 
pictures,  and  the  walls  of  his  house  were  covered 
with  priceless  masterpieces." 

"  Really,  Billy,"  said  Bart,  glancing  mischievously 
in  my  direction,  "  did  he  ever  buy  a  picture  by 
Edwin  Ward  ?  " 

**  No,  dear  boy,  I  really  am  not  aware  that  he 
ever  did,"  replied  Barrett. 

"  Then  may  his  immortal  soul  smoulder  in  hell 
for  a  million  years,"  was  Bart's  surprising,  and  to  me 
somewhat  embarrassing,  rejoinder. 

Among  Freemasons  there  exists  the  legend  of 
a  lady  who  attended  "  Lodge  "  disguised  as  a  man. 
The  assembled  Masons  discovering  the  sex  of  the 
intruder  (how,  it  is  not  stated)  had  no  alternative, 
but  there  and  then  to  initiate  her  in  all  the  mysteries 
and  rites  of  Masonry. 

Not  so  long  ago  a  somewhat  similar  and  startling 
experience  fell  to  the  lot  of  the  members  of  the 
Savage  Club  at  the  Weekly  House  Dinner  held 
in  the  great  room  on  the  Adelphi  Terrace. 

My  attention  had  been  directed  to  some  outward 
peculiarities  in  the  personal  appearance  of  a  guest 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  ii 

seated  at  one  of  the  tables,  but  being  inured  by 
long  usage  to  the  many  and  varied  oddities  assembled 
there  from  time  to  time,  I  failed  to  realize  the 
nature  of  this  novelty  that  had  been  introduced 
into  our  midst.  But  the  curiosity  of  a  fellow- 
member  was  not  so  easily  satisfied.  Brimful  of 
mischief  he  approached  the  mysterious  stranger, 
saying,  "  You  must  excuse  me  but  I  don't  like  your 
*  make  up,'  "  and  tugging  at  the  moustache  which 
adorned  the  "  gentleman's  "  lip,  it  came  off  into 
his  hand.  The  wearer  sprang  up  from  "  his  "  seat 
and  immediately  made  tracks  for  the  door,  scurried 
down  the  stairs  into  the  hall,  collared  "  his  "  coat 
and  hat  and  fled  from  the  Club  out  into  the  night 
"  like  one  possessed." 

The  intruder  having  been  routed,  the  member 
responsible  for  the  incident  was  called  upon  by  the 
Committee  for  an  explanation  and  his  resignation. 
He  was  an  old  member  of  the  Club,  with  a  distin- 
guished record  as  a  public  servant. 

The  lady  in  the  case,  masquerading  as  a  man, 
was  his  own  wife  who  had,  on  more  than  one 
occasion,  spent  a  long  evening  at  the  "  Savage " 
in  male  attire.  He  protested  that  it  was  no 
infringement  of  any  by-law  of  the  Club  for  any 
member  to  introduce  a  guest  who  behaved  as  a 
gentleman  ! 

Many  years  ago  the  experiment  of  a  "  Ladies' 
Evening  "  in  the  Club  House  was  ventured  upon 
— with  this  restriction — that  those  members  of 
the  "  fair  sex  "  outside  our  domestic  circle  were 
not  admissible. 

The    function    was    an   innovation    resented    by 


12         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

many  members,  who  had  lived  their  own  lives 
without  experiencing  the  benefits  and  chastening 
influence  of  female  society.  In  fact,  Mr.  Odell 
threatened  to  come  with  "  Lady  Godiva  "  as  his 
guest. 

Some  wives  are  more  clubbable  than  others. 
Take  the  case  of  John  L.  Sullivan,  the  famous 
prize-fighter.  He  and  Phil  May  struck  up  a  warm 
friendship  and  became  great  cronies.  So  fond 
were  they  of  each  other's  society  that  it  was 
frequently  very  late  before  they  could  bear  to 
separate  for  the  night. 

Sullivan,  a  vast  man  of  ferocious  aspect,  was 
scared  to  death  of  his  wife.  He  told  Phil  that  he 
simply  couldn't  face  the  missus  alone  after  an  all- 
night  sitting. 

She  was  in  the  habit  on  these  occasions  of  giving 
him  a  good  walloping.  So  dear  old  Phil,  the  gentlest 
and  frailest  of  things  human,  was  commandeered 
to  break  the  glad  tidings  to  Mrs.  Sullivan  that 
"  John  L."  had  come  home. 

The  Savage  Club,  a  delightful  place  to  those 
inured  to  its  atmosphere  and  vocabulary,  might 
be  just  a  trifle  surprising  to  the  uninitiated.  A 
Quaker  gentleman,  whose  wife  I  had  been  painting 
in  the  Midlands,  met  me  in  town  to  choose  the  frame 
for  the  picture,  and  finding  ourselves  in  Trafalgar 
Square  about  five  o'clock,  he  suggested  that  we 
should  take  tea  together. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  "  don't  you  belong  to 
the  Savage  Club  ?    It  must  be  quite  near  us  here." 

This  was  not  an  experiment  which  I  would  have 


lyr'      ' 


SiK  Hknkv  1k\ing  as  Mkphistophki.es. 
.Sketched  l)y  I'liil  .May  at  a  Savage  (lull  Dinner. 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  13 

courted,  but  it  seemed  difficult  to  avoid  without 
giving  offence,  so  with  all  the  alacrity  I  could  assume 
we  wended  our  way  to  Adelphi  Terrace. 

Ascending  the  stairs  to  the  dining-room  I  was 
venturesome  enough  to  take  my  guest  to  the 
entrance  of  the  bar  where,  the  solitary  occupant 
of  the  room,  sat  Mr.  Odell  in  his  customary  seat 
under  the  window  in  the  far  corner.  Having  no 
desire  to  cross  swords  with  so  doughty  a  warrior 
with  an  untried  guest  at  my  elbow,  I  made  haste 
to  withdraw,  merely  remarking,  "  This,  you  will 
observe,  is  the  bar."  Before,  however,  I  could 
make  good  my  escape,  Mr.  Odell  bellowed  in 
stentorian  tones,  "  Why,  here's  bloody  old  Ward." 

Without  further  comment  I  hurried  my  guest 
into  the  dining-room,  where  I  ordered  tea.  Here 
I  hoped  we  should  be  safe,  but  no,  Luscombe 
Searelle,  a  theatrical  impresario  of  the  South 
African  blend,  approached  us  :  "  Have  a  drink, 
old  boy.  Who's  your  friend  ?  "  I  modestly  pro- 
tested that  we  were  taking  tea,  but  tea  did  not 
appeal  to  Searelle,  who  proceeded  to  explain,  much 
to  my  horror,  that  he  "  had  been  damned  drunk 
last  night." 

I  promptly  took  him  to  the  bar,  ordered  what 
he  required  and  put  down  the  last  pound  I  possessed 
in  the  world.  Searelle's  custom  was  to  pay  for  all 
the  impoverished  members,  and  when  the  barman, 
serving  the  drinks,  put  down  the  change  out  of 
the  only  pound  I  expected  to  see  for  many  moons, 
Searelle  swept  the  shillings  from  the  counter,  and 
emptied  them  into  his  pocket  as  was  his  habit, 
never   dreaming   that    he   was    being    entertained. 


14         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

I  was  so  appalled  at  losing  what  was  left  of  my 
slender  resources  that  I  failed  to  make  any  protest, 
and  tea  having  arrived,  rejoined  my  guest  in  the 
dining-room. 

Looking  round  he  remarked  that  probably  there 
were  many  distinguished  men  present.  At  that 
moment  there  passed  us  a  man  whose  name  is 
famous  in  literature,  and  as  he  happened  to  be 
also  a  friend  of  mine  I  asked  him  where  he  was 
going.  "  To  the  card  room,"  he  replied.  Upon 
my  saying  that  I  never  imagined  he  would  waste 
his  time  so  wantonly  he  said,  "  When  I  was  young 
I  did  care  for  nothing  but  women  and  wine  ;  now 
I  play  cards." 

After  this  I  felt  indisposed  to  venture  any  further 
in  the  direction  of  impressing  my  Quaker  friend 
with  the  quality  of  my  brother  Savages.  He 
appeared  quite  relieved  to  get  away,  and  would 
not  listen  to  my  suggestion  that  he  should  stay  on 
to  dinner. 

The  cult  of  wild  enthusiasm  is  rife  among  the 
Savages.  A  musical  member  became  so  absorbed 
in  the  lure  of  his  calling  as  to  be  utterly  callous 
either  to  his  complexion  or  his  clothing.  It  was 
also  his  meat  and  drink — he  literally  ate  music 
and  imbibed  it.  He  talked  and  thought  of  nothing 
else.  He  would  gladly  play  on  far  into  the  night 
at  the  little  piano  in  the  downstairs  room.  He 
played  so  well  that  a  select  group  of  kindred  spirits 
would  cheerfully  miss  their  last  trains  rather  than 
break  up  the  party.  The  musician,  I  verily  believe, 
begrudged  even  the  time  to  wash,  but  his  counte- 


THE  SAVAGE  CLUB  15 

nance  shone  nevertheless  with  the  light  of  genius, 
and  his  threadbare  garments  just  clung  round  his 
slender  frame,  which  quivered  and  vibrated  with 
emotional  expression  as  he  warmed  to  his  work. 

Leaving  the  Club  one  winter's  night  in  the  small 
hours,  a  friend  of  mine — a  new  member — enquired 
of  him  how  he  proposed  to  find  his  way  home. 
It  was  a  wild  night,  driving  with  sleet  and  rain. 
My  friend,  who  had  been  entranced  with  the 
musician's  performance,  was  much  perturbed  by 
the  idea  of  his  facing  the  inclement  weather  with 
so  meagre  a  protection  against  the  cold,  and 
insisted  upon  his  accepting  a  great  fur-lined  overcoat, 
of  which  he  himself  was  in  no  great  need,  and 
chartering  a  taxi,  despatched  him  to  his  dwelling- 
place. 

The  following  day  the  musician  was  found  in 
the  bar,  flushed  with  a  happiness  and  a  wealth 
which  he  insisted  on  sharing  with  all  around  him, 
and  expounding  upon  the  source  of  his  new-found 
means,  explained  :  "  Last  night  some  rich  bounder 
bestowed  upon  me  a  flamboyant  fur-lined  garment. 
...  I  could  not  possibly  be  seen  in  daylight  in 
a  disguise  so  out  of  keeping  with  my  composition, 
so  I  pawned  the  thing — ten  pounds  of  the  best, 
dear  boys  ;  and  now,  really,  we  can  make  a  day 
of  it." 

No  one  appreciated  the  joke  more  than  the  Good 
Samaritan,  his  only  regret  being  that  the  musician 
had  not  made  a  better  bargain,  for  the  despised 
garment  had  only  recently  cost  him  a  hundred 
guineas. 


CHAPTER  II 

MR.  ODELL — PHIL  MAY — BILLY  PIKE — EDWIN  CLEARY 

IN  a  club  where  practically  every  habitue  is 
familiarly  known  and  claimed  by  his  cronies 
as  "Phil,"  "Ted,"  "Ned,"  or  "Tommy," 
as  the  case  may  be — "  Mr."  Odell  has  ever 
preserved  this  dignified  attribute  of  outward  respect. 
No  one  ventures  upon  any  departure  from  this 
formula — "  Odell,"  perhaps,  just  now  and  then 
may  be  indulged  in  for  the  sake  of  variety,  but  his 
initials  "  E.  J."  are  never  played  upon  lightly. 

In  reckless  mood,  and  taking  my  courage  in  both 
hands,  I  once  had  the  temerity  to  enquire  of  him 
what  Christian  names  his  initials  stood  for.  He 
promptly  enlightened  me :  "  Ebenezer  Jehoshaphat." 
It  transpired  in  the  course  of  years  that  the  "  E  " 
was  really  a  name  which  I  have  the  honour  to 
share — Edwin — but  I  must  leave  to  others  the  task 
of  extracting  from  him  what  the  "  J  "  stands  for. 

The  place  of  his  birth,  what  his  wife  was  like — 
or  any  other  vapid  detail  of  his  life  on  earth — all 
pale  before  the  tenure  of  his  high  office  as  King  of 
the  "  Savages,"  and  titular  lord  of  Adelphi  Terrace. 

Until  such  time  as  he  chooses  to  abdicate,  no 
mortal  will  be  found  to  challenge  his  sovereignty. 

For  many  years  Mr.  Odell's  place  of  abode  was 
shrouded  in  deepest  mystery.     I  spent  the  whole 

i6 


MR.  ODELL  17 

of  one  night  in  his  company.  We  left  the  Club 
as  it  was  closing  long  after  midnight  and  made 
for  the  Charing  Cross  Hotel,  where  a  small  and 
select  party  of  "  late  birds  "  was  usually  to  be  found. 
Having  exhausted  the  entertainment  at  that 
establishment,  we  wandered  forth  in  the  direction 
of  Fleet  Street,  visiting  several  licensed  houses 
where  members  of  the  Press  were  free  to  refresh 
themselves  at  any  hour  during  the  night.  From 
there  I  was  conducted  to  a  "  Lockhart's,"  where 
a  light  repast  was  indulged  in,  washed  down  with 
a  cup  of  cocoa.  By  that  time  the  "  early  houses  " 
were  opening.  After  sampling  several  of  these 
on  the  way  to  Covent  Garden,  all  alive  with  market 
folk,  we  returned  to  the  Charing  Cross  Hotel  and 
partook  of  their  excellent  "  7  o'clock  boat  breakfast." 

Just  as  I  was  wondering  when  Odell  would  con- 
sider the  "  evening "  finished  and  disclose  the 
direction  of  his  habitation,  he  excused  himself 
for  a  moment  and,  after  a  long  wait,  I  found 
he  had  vanished  and  that  the  "  evening "  was 
over. 

Leaving  the  "  Savage  "  one  day  in  some  hurry, 
I  was  obliged  to  part  somewhat  abruptly  from 
Mr.  Odell,  who  never  permitted  business  of  any 
character  to  accelerate  his  stately  saunter  through 
existence.  Excusing  myself,  I  said  :  "  Now,  really, 
I  must  run  away." 

Smiling  grimly,  he  merely  remarked  :  "  Let  me 
see  you  run." 

Brandon  Thomas,  a  prince  of  good  fellows  and 
generous  to  a  fault,  was  untiring  in  his  devotion  to 
Odell.    The  success  of  his  play,  "  Charley's  Aunt," 


i8         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

had  made  a  rich  man  of  him,  and  he  shared  his  good 
fortune  right  royally  with  his  less  favoured  brethren. 
But  there  came  a  time  when  through  unfortunate 
investments  he  was  obliged  to  take  a  more  careful 
view  of  his  financial  position. 

Odell  informed  me  one  day  that  Brandon  Thomas, 
reminding  him  of  a  temporary  loan  of  ten  pounds, 
had  expressed  a  desire  for  its  repayment. 

"  I  just  told  him  that  I  had  not  quite  finished 
with  it  yet." 

As  Odell  was  leaving  my  studio  one  afternoon, 
and  I  was  conducting  him  to  the  door,  I  ventured 
to  press  into  his  hand  the  half-crown  for  his  cab 
fare,  with  the  remark  :  "I  am  only  sorry,  Odell, 
that  it  is  not  more." 

He  replied  :    "  May  I  say — and  so  am  I  ?  " 

A  gloomy  member  who  resented  all  my  attempts 
to  raise  his  drooping  spirits,  declared  that  he  wished 
he  were  dead,  adding,  "  and  if  the  truth  be  known, 
so  do  you." 

Upon  my  protesting  that  I  was  far  from  ready 
and  really  in  no  hurry,  Mr.  Odell  called  out  from 
his  corner  :  "  None  of  your  shinnanakin,  Ward. 
Give  it  a  date  !  " 

An  old  friend  of  mine.  Dr.  Symons  Eccles,  was 
taking  the  chair  at  a  House  Dinner  twenty-six 
years  ago.  He  wished  me  to  design  the  menu  card, 
but,  as  I  pointed  out  to  him,  half  a  dozen  of  the  most 
famous  black-and-white  artists  whose  metier  it 
was  to  do  that  sort  of  thing  were  members  of  the 
Club,  so  I  offered  to  contribute  anything  else  he 
suggested  towards  the  harmony  of  the  evening. 
He  came  to  me  later,  and  said  :    "  Will  you  paint 


K.  J.  Uni-.i-i.,  Art(jr. 
'"  in  his  habit  as  he  lived") 
I'ViiMi  tlie  piitiirc  t)y  ['"dwiii  A    W'iird  in  tlie  Savase  Club. 


MR.  ODELL  19 

Mr.  Odell  for  me  and  I  will  present  the  portrait 
to  the  Club  on  the  evening  of  my  Chairmanship  ?  " 

This  I  agreed  to  do  but  stipulated  that  he  should 
make  it  quite  clear  to  Odell  that  he  must  keep  the 
appointments,  knowing  the  latter's  habits  at  that 
period — up  all  night  and  abed  all  day.  He  assured 
me  that  his  arrangement  with  Mr.  Odell  was  that 
the  sittings  were  to  be  regarded  as  strictly  pro- 
fessional engagements  for  which  he  would  receive 
a  fee,  and  that  a  case  of  whisky  of  the  Odell  brand 
had  been  forwarded  to  my  studio. 

Accordingly  six  o'clock  the  following  Monday 
was  fixed,  but  after  waiting  for  an  hour  beyond  that 
time  I  proceeded  to  the  "Savage,"  to  find  that  Mr. 
Odell  had  not  been  seen  there.  After  fruitlessly 
visiting  several  of  his  well-known  haunts  I  returned 
crestfallen  to  the  Club,  and  later  in  the  evening 
met  Odell  entering  as  I  was  leaving. 

"  Odell,  you  did  not  turn  up  to-day  as  promised." 

"  No,  I  could  not  manage  it.  But  I  will  come 
now  ;  never  mind  the  lateness  of  the  hour,  it  will 
teach  me  the  way." 

So  the  first  sitting  took  place  by  gaslight,  and 
each  of  the  further  four  sittings  was  personally 
conducted,  with  the  exception  of  one  occasion 
when  I  invited  him  to  lunch  with  me  at  one  o'clock. 
As  he  did  not  appear  I  had  to  lunch  alone.  Two 
hours  later,  long  after  lunch  had  been  cleared  away, 
he  appeared. 

"  Odell,  you  are  very  late,"  said  I. 

"  I  am  also  very  hungry,"  replied  he. 

Everything  had  been  cleared  from  the  premises, 
as    having    no    kitchen    or    service    arrangements 


20  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

luncheon  was  sent  in  from  the  local  hostelry,  to 
which  I  hurried,  only  to  be  informed  that  everything 
so  far  as  food  was  concerned  had  been  cleared  away 
there,  too,  for  the  day.  Returning  to  the  studio 
I  passed  a  fried-fish  shop  and  it  struck  me  that  if 
I  could  present  some  fish  nicely  on  a  dish  with  some 
fried  potatoes  and  a  clean  napkin,  Odell  need  never 
know  how  the  food  was  obtained. 

The  old  man  enjoyed  his  meal  immensely,  and  as 
he  finished,  he  turned  from  the  table  and  said  : 
"  The  first  artist  to  whom  I  sat  was  Professor 
Herkomer  ;  he  gave  me  a  recherche  lunch,  a  glass 
of  wine  and  a  fine  cigar.  I  next  sat  to  Mr.  Linnell, 
who  gave  me  a  chop,  a  glass  of  port  and  a  smoke. 
I  sit  to  you  and  you  give  me  fried  fish.  I  suppose 
the  next  artist  I  sit  to  will  kick  my  blinkin'  bohindf  " 

The  picture  was  still  unfinished  on  the  morning 
of  the  day  of  presentation.  When  Odell  realized 
this  he  really  faced  the  music,  and  whatever  is  worth 
while  in  the  picture,  was  done  in  the  last  forty 
minutes.  It  was  put  in  its  frame,  we  called  a  four- 
wheeler,  and  arrived  at  the  Club  just  in  time  for  the 
House  Dinner. 

When  the  picture  was  unveiled  Mr.  Odell  made  a 
short  speech,  in  which  he  told  the  assembly  that  the 
artist  had  painted  the  picture  in  a  fortnight :  "I 
think  he  deserves  six  months."  There  were  shouts 
of  approval  at  this  sally. 

Afterwards,  Symons  Eccles  rose,  saying  he  proposed 
to  present  the  portrait  to  the  Club :  "  Brother 
Savages,  will  you  accept  it  ?  "  Loud  shouts  of 
"  No  !  "  came  from  all  parts  of  the  room.  Dr. 
Eccles  took  this  irony  very  seriously  and  removed 


MR.  ODELL  21 

the  picture  to  his  house.  If  I  had  not  later  found 
it  hanging  in  his  hall,  I  should  have  lost  sight  of 
it  altogether,  and  it  would  not  now  be  occupying 
its  present  position  at  the  Savage  Club. 

Mr.  Odell  rarely  sought  his  bed  in  those  days 
before  it  was  time  for  ordinary  folk  to  leave  theirs. 
Yet,  on  occasions,  I  have  observed  that  he  has 
adopted  quite  a  parental  attitude  towards  the  late 
hour  habit  indulged  in  by  his  juniors. 

He  told  me  that  on  one  occasion  it  became  quite 
obvious  that  the  best  and  only  place  for  Phil  May 
was  undoubtedly — bed  !  He  undertook  the  delicate 
and  difficult  office  of  mentor,  and,  by  dint  of  the 
exercise  of  much  gentle  suasion,  eventually  succeeded 
in  inducing  Phil  to  take  his  leave  of  the  Club,  and 
accompanied  him  into  a  cab  that  had  been  summoned 
for  the  purpose  of  conveying  them  to  Maida  Vale. 

Arriving  at  their  destination  at  Melina  Place, 
Odell  aroused  his  drowsy  charge,  and  abstracting 
the  latch-key  from  his  pocket,  gently  opened  the 
door  and  with  great  care  deposited  Phil  on  a  couch 
in  the  hall,  where  he  immediately  resumed  his 
slumbers.  This  having  been  accomplished  without 
disturbing  Mrs.  May,  Odell  being  desirous  of  escaping 
any  meed  of  blame  for  being  concerned  in  keeping 
her  husband  out  until  such  a  late  hour,  let  himself 
out  into  the  street,  closing  the  door  softly  behind  him. 

Not  being  possessed  of  the  wherewithal  to  charter 
a  cab  for  the  return  journey,  he  had  to  tramp  all 
the  weary  way  back  from  Maida  Vale  to  Adelphi 
Terrace,  comforted  by  the  reflection  that  he  had 
rendered  a  service  to  an  old  friend  and  a  great 
artist. 


22         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Arriving  eventually  at  his  destination,  footsore 
and  exhausted,  he  dragged  his  weary  way  up  the 
stairs  leading  to  the  bar,  where  he  was  saddened 
and  surprised  to  see  the  triumphant  figure  of  Phil 
May,  glass  in  hand  held  aloft,  flushed  with  the  joy 
of  having  defeated  the  designs  of  his  Good  Samaritan 
by  a  swift  recovery  from  the  ruse  of  the  sleep  on 
the  couch,  where  Odell  had  deposited  him,  and  by 
catching  a  smart  hansom  which  returned  him  to 
the  Club  to  put  a  finish  to  a  great  evening. 

Some  years  before  the  Great  War  I  found  myself 
in  Madeira.  Having  some  mission  which  took  me 
into  the  interior  of  the  island,  I  hired  a  vehicle  and 
drove  to  an  address  as  directed.  Upon  enquiry 
for  the  individual  of  whom  I  was  in  quest  a  familiar 
figure  presented  itself  in  the  doorway — a  man 
I  had  not  seen  for  years — a  "  brother  Savage," 
Alaricus  Delmar  by  name,  who  in  the  early  days 
of  my  membership  of  the  Club  had  been  quite  a 
friend  of  mine. 

Rumour  related  that  he  had  embarked  upon 
a  great  scheme  for  the  creation  of  a  centre  of 
athletic  activity  in  the  Canaries — golf  links,  tennis 
courts,  croquet  lawns — all  within  three  days  from 
Southampton — where  people  of  modest  means  might 
winter  with  interest,  ease,  comfort  and  pleasure. 
The  scheme  included,  also,  the  establishment  of 
a  first-class  club  devoted  to  the  fascinating  and 
elusive  pastime  of  roulette.  The  enterprise  had 
proved  a  failure,  but  we  had  never  been  able  to 
discover  what  had  happened  to  Alaricus — and 
here  he  was  !  filling  that  doorway  with  his  humorous. 


MR.  ODELL  23 

inscrutable  smile — completely  unembarrassed  at  the 
strange  manner  of  our  meeting.  Sitting  there  in 
my  little  carriage,  I  felt  slightly  at  a  loss  for  a 
moment,  until  Alaricus,  extending  a  hand  of 
welcome,  softly  enquired  :    "  How  is  Odell  ?  " 

And  so  it  was  the  world  over.  Wherever  I  found 
myself,  the  first  question  put  to  me  by  people  who 
knew  I  belonged  to  the  Savage  Club  was  "  How  is 
Odell  ?  "  Most  of  them  had  never  been  inside  the 
Club.  How  on  earth  this  man's  name  had  become 
a  household  word  puzzled  me,  yet  he  was  often  the 
only  member  of  the  famous  Club  with  whose  name 
people  appeared  to  be  familiar.  He  had  not,  like 
so  many  of  his  fellow  members,  been  a  great  traveller, 
and  although  as  an  actor  he  had  never  failed  to 
fill  his  part  with  distinction,  he  was  not  usually 
associated  with  world-famous  productions. 

On  one  of  the  few  occasions  when  he  was  engaged 
to  appear  with  a  company  in  South  Africa  under 
the  management  of  Luscombe  Searelle,  a  farewell 
dinner  was  given  at  the  Club  prior  to  his  departure. 
In  response  to  the  toast  of  "  Good  luck,  good 
health  and  a  safe  return,"  Odell  arose  and  said  : 

"  I  am  about  to  embark  on  a  great  enterprise  " 
— then,  after  a  dramatic  pause — "  I  propose  to 
found  a  new  Colony — Odellesia  !  " — the  last  word 
delivered  with  a  magnificent  pomp  it  is  impossible 
to  convey. 

You  cannot  bribe  Odell  with  a  dinner.  Twenty- 
five  years  ago  St.  John  Harmsworth,  then  a  young 
man  just  down  from  Oxford,  called  upon  me  one 
evening  at  the  Savage  Club,  with  a  college  chum. 
They  had  engaged  a  table  at  Romano's  and  wished 


24         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

me  to  dine  with  them,  adding,  "  and  Odell  must 
come,  too  !  "  Romano's  was  then  the  place  in  town, 
and  I  rather  admired  St.  John's  courage  in  facing 
a  fashionable  restaurant,  glittering  with  its  crowd 
of  gilded  youth  in  meticulously  correct  attire,  and 
gaily  dressed  dwellers  in  fairy  land,  and  taking  as 
his  guest  the  sombre,  stately  Odell. 

Nothing  could  have  been  in  sharper  contrast. 
Odell  refused  to  be  divested  of  his  famous  bright 
green  overcoat  with  its  numerous  overlapping 
capes,  and  as  we  were  conducted  in  stately  procession 
to  our  table  the  head  waiter  and  wine  steward 
were  summoned  to  take  our  orders  for  the  feast. 
An  imposing  and  elaborately  printed  menu  was 
placed  in  Odell's  hand,  while  the  attendant  maitre 
d'hdtel  lingered,  pencil  in  hand,  to  take  down  the 
details  of  the  dinner. 

Upon  being  pressed  to  make  his  selection  from 
the  various  dishes  on  the  menu,  Odell  turned  to 
the  head  waiter,  saying  :  "  You  appear  to  have 
everything  but  the  one  thing  I  require."  There 
were,  as  might  be  expected,  profuse  apologies,  and 
assurances  that  any  and  every  luxury  that  Odell 
might  fancy  could  and  would  be  provided.  "  In 
that  case,"  said  Odell,  "  I  should  like  a  kipper." 

This  was  eventually  produced,  and  was  the  only 
dish  of  which  he  could  be  persuaded  to  partake. 

It  seems  difficult,  perhaps,  to  appraise  at  its 
full  value  the  contribution  rendered  to  his  generation 
by  the  personality  of  a  man  of  Odell's  quality. 
The  pity  of  it  is  that  the  office  of  Court  Jester  has 
been  suffered  to  fall  into  abeyance.     Odell  would 


CuWE    NOW   :       WH^r   M'»r 


K.   I.OlJKI.L. 
]i\  Oliver  J*a<]iie, 


PHIL  MAY  25 

have  made  an  ideal  Court  Jester  ;  his  trenchant 
wit  would  have  relieved  the  tension  and  oppressive 
solemnity  of  many  a  State  function. 

King  Edward  showed  his  appreciation  of  Odell's 
claim  to  recognition  by  nominating  him  as  one  of 
the  Brethren  of  the  Charterhouse — where  his 
picturesque  figure  is  in  complete  harmony  with 
a  place  hallowed  by  memories  of  "  Colonel 
Newcome." 

Phil  May  was  much  at  the  Savage  Club  in  those 
days,  a  simple,  kindly,  generous  fellow,  almost 
too  popular  for  his  own  well-being.  Going  into 
the  bar  one  evening  I  saw  Phil  standing  with  the 
usual  long  cigar  projecting  from  his  face,  and  a 
tumbler  containing  refreshment  in  each  hand. 

"  Hullo,  Phil,  how  are  you  ?  "  I  said. 

He  replied,  "  Do  you  mind  taking  this  cigar 
out  of  my  mouth  for  a  moment,  I  am  most  awfully 
thirsty." 

He  told  me  he  was  working  for  the  "  Graphic  " 
and  had  had  to  make  some  drawings  of  the  Lord 
Mayor's  procession  which  had  passed  along  the 
Strand  that  day.  He  went  across  to  Romano's, 
where  he  was  well  known,  and  asked  for  the  use  of 
a  small  room  overlooking  the  Strand,  where  he  would 
not  be  disturbed,  and  just  for  the  good  of  the  house 
he  ordered  a  bottle  of  champagne  to  be  sent  up. 

"  As  I  sat  in  the  window  at  work,"  said  Phil, 
"  much  to  my  annoyance  a  stranger  strolled  in, 
and  not  only  watched  me  working,  but  also  calmly 
mopped  up  the  wine,  which  was  open  on  the 
table." 


26         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Phil  had  finished  his  work,  and  was  hurrying 
away  to  the  "  Graphic  "  office  when  the  intruder 
stopped  him  as  he  passed  through  the  bar,  saying 
that  he  had  discovered  from  Romano  that  it  was 
Mr.  May's  wine  to  which  he  had  helped  himself 
so  liberally  under  the  impression  that  it  was  the 
landlord  who  was  acting  as  host.  He  insisted  upon 
standing  another  bottle. 

Phil  begged  to  be  excused  as  it  was  important 
that  he  should  deliver  his  drawings  without  delay. 
*'  Well,  then,  have  a  cigar?  "  To  this  Phil  assented, 
whereupon  Romano  was  instructed  to  provide  the 
choicest  cigar  he  could  produce.  A  wonderful 
specimen,  enshrined  in  a  glass  envelope,  appeared. 
The  cost  was  defrayed  by  the  stranger,  and  Phil, 
putting  a  light  to  his  wonderful  cigar,  hurried  off 
with  his  drawings. 

Crossing  the  Strand  he  ran  into  Corbould,  the 
"  Punch  "  artist,  and  a  great  crony  of  Phil's. 

"  Hullo,  Phil,  what's  your  hurry  ?  Come  and 
have  a  drink." 

"  Sorry,  old  man,  I  hav'n't  a  moment  to  spare. 
These  drawings  must  be  handed  in  at  once." 

Corbould  shoved  his  hand  into  his  pocket,  and 
pulled  out  a  tired-looking  Manila,  which  he  handed 
to  Phil,  saying  :  "  Well,  here,  have  a  good  'un  !  " 
With  that  he  plucked  the  priceless  Corona  from 
Phil's  face  and  flung  it  into  the  muddy  road. 

My  friend,  Charles  Bertram,  told  me  he  was 
dining  at  the  Trocadero  and  found  himself  sitting 
next  Phil  May.  During  the  evening  he  noticed 
that  Phil  was  partaking  very  sparingly  of  the 
excellent  fare  provided.    Bertram,  a  very  old  friend 


PHIL  MAY  27 

of  Phil's,  asked  him  why  he  did  not  take  a  little 
food  with  his  wine. 

"  The  fact  is,"  said  Phil,  "  I  dined  before  I  came." 

"  Oh,  that's  all  right,"  said  Bertram,  "  what 
did  you  have  ?  " 

"  A  muffin,"  replied  Phil. 

Phil  was  an  excellent  horseman,  and  during  the 
time  he  was  drawing  for  the  "  Graphic "  he 
occasionally  rode  from  his  house  in  Kensington 
to  the  office.  On  one  of  these  rides  he  had  occasion 
to  call  at  the  Savage  Club,  and  left  his  horse  in  the 
charge  of  a  man  outside,  with  instructions  to  walk 
the  animal  up  and  down  the  terrace  until  he  had 
picked  up  his  letters,  or  whatever  his  business 
happened  to  be.  He  found  the  company  so  much 
to  his  liking  that  after  a  good  deal  of  fun  and 
refreshment  he  forgot  all  about  his  horse  and 
proceeded  to  the  office  on  foot. 

After  a  time,  the  man  holding  the  horse  called 
the  attention  of  the  hall-porter  and  asked  if  Mr. 
May  was  in  the  Club.  "  No,"  said  the  porter, 
"  he  left  an  hour  ago."  The  members  were  consulted 
and  eventually  the  horse  was  put  in  a  livery-stable 
in  the  neighbourhood. 

Several  days  elapsed  and  Phil  again  appeared 
at  the  Club.  "  Most  extraordinary  thing,"  he  said, 
"  I've  lost  my  horse.  I  started  from  home  with  it 
all  right  a  few  days  ago,  but  for  the  life  of  me  I 
can't  remember  what  became  of  it."  After  a  little 
cross-examination,  "  Did  you  drop  it  down  an 
area  ?  "  and  so  on,  they  relieved  his  mind  by 
producing  the  missing  horse. 

Phil    told    me    a    remarkable    story    illustrating 


28         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

his  absent-mindedness.  On  the  morning  when 
he  should  have  done  his  "  Graphic  "  drawing  for 
the  week  he  ventured  out  on  a  short  stroll  which 
lengthened  as  far  as  the  Strand,  and  lasted  the  whole 
day  and  far  into  the  night.  He  returned  home 
in  the  small  hours,  tip-toed  through  the  studio, 
and  crept  into  bed  without  waking  Mrs.  May. 

In  the  morning  he  was  preparing  to  rise  when 
Mrs.  May  said,  "  You  had  much  better  rest  a  little 
longer  as  you  were  very  late  last  night." 

Phil  said  it  was  absolutely  necessary  for  him  to  do 
the  "  Graphic  "  drawing  which  should  have  been 
done  the  day  before. 

"  My  dear,  the  drawing  is  finished,  and  stands 
on  the  easel  in  the  studio.  You  evidently  did  it 
after  you  came  in  last  night,  before  coming  to  bed." 

Phil  put  on  his  dressing-gown,  went  into  the  studio, 
and  lo  !  and  behold  !  there  was  the  drawing  done 
by  his  own  hand,  yet  for  the  life  of  him  he  could  not 
recollect  doing  one  stroke  of  it. 

Phil  was  a  child  where  any  question  of  a  business 
character  arose.  I  met  him  one  day  in  Regent 
Street,  obviously  in  a  merry  mood,  and  he  invited 
me  into  Driver's  to  drink  a  special  brew  of  champagne 
and  stout.  I  declined  the  kind  invitation  and 
expressed  surprise  at  seeing  him  in  town,  having 
been  under  the  impression  that  he  was  away  in 
Leeds. 

"  So  I  was,  old  boy,  until  to-day,  but  I  owed  a 
man  eighty  pounds  which  I  promised  to  repay 
this  morning  ;  but  I  can't  find  the  fellow  and  have 
spent  thirty  of  it  already." 

Phil  told  me  he  had  invented  a  new  drink,  it  was 


PHIL  MAY  29 

something  like  whisky  and  soda — only  there  was 
more  whisky  in  it. 

Phil  May  and  a  writer  named  George  were  sent 
out  to  the  Chicago  Exhibition  by  a  Syndicate 
to  write  and  illustrate  a  story  of  that  marvellous 
show.  But  Phil  and  his  partner  were  subjected 
to  so  much  entertainment  that  they  found  no 
leisure  in  which  to  fulfil  their  obligation  to  their 
paper.  In  consequence,  a  cable  was  sent,  insisting 
on  their  immediate  return. 

Full  of  remorse,  they  arrived  in  England  at  the 
precise  moment  of  the  marriage  of  Prince  George 
and  Princess  Mary  of  Teck.  They  reached  London 
heartily  ashamed  of  the  fruitless  few  weeks  they 
had  spent  in  Chicago,  very  perturbed  as  to  their 
reception  at  the  offices  of  the  "  Graphic,"  and  quite 
ignorant  of  the  decorations  and  festivities  consequent 
upon  the  royal  marriage. 

As  they  drove  across  Waterloo  Bridge  into 
the  Strand,  Phil's  face  suddenly  brightened,  and 
pointing  to  an  archway  across  the  road,  he  said, 
"Cheer  up,  George,  old  boy,  we're  forgiven.  Look! 
'  Welcome  to  George  and  May  !  '  " 

The  Strand  in  Phil  May's  time  was  strewn  with 
pitfalls,  and  Fleet  Street  itself  was  a  network  of 
traps.  There  were  bars  attuned  to  the  taste  of  every 
thirsty  traveller — day  time  or  night  time  you  could 
hardly  go  wrong. 

At  any  hour  you  might  find  comfort  and  congenial 
company  in  one  or  other  of  the  favoured  haunts 
stretching  from  the  "  Silver  Grill  "  to  the  "  Cheshire 
Cheese."  There  were  innumerable  stopping-places 
on  the  "  Gin  Crawl,"   as  it  was  called,  sheltered 


30         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

shady  spots  where  you  could  "  break  your  fall." 
Leaving  the  "  Cri  "  you  must  call  at  the  "  Cavour  " 
to  prepare  you  for  the  "  Marble  Hall,"  the  next  halt 
before  getting  down  to  real  business  at  Romano's, 
where  "  Auntie  "  presided  over  and  controlled  a 
medley  of  humanity  comprising  practically  every 
picturesque  figure  and  personality  to  be  found  in 
the  world  of  sport,  the  drama,  literature  and  art. 
Good  fellows  all,  some  perhaps  better  than  others, 
but  not  very  much. 

Great  congregations  were  always  assembled  in  the 
old  Gaiety  Bar,  a  business  of  its  own,  and  again 
across  the  way  at  the  Tivoli ;  tucked  away  behind, 
in  the  region  leading  towards  the  river,  there  was 
rest  for  the  weary  in  the  "  Caledonian  "  and  the 
Adelphi.  After  the  theatre  and  until  closing  time 
a  little  coterie  of  the  acting  faternity  formed  a 
friendly  symposium  at  the  "  Coal  Hole." 

Last  of  all,  and  as  a  harbour  of  refuge  for  its 
members,  stood  the  ever-open  door  of  the  Savage 
Club  itself. 

This  was  London  as  Phil  May  found  it,  and  no 
figure  in  my  time  captured  its  affection  so  swiftly 
or  so  completely.  His  appeal  was  immediate,  in 
every  lounge  he  reigned  supreme,  and  even  to  this 
day  the  magic  of  his  name  remains  a  household 
word. 

Phil's  popularity  was  universal.  Surrounded 
and  followed  by  a  crowd  of  admirers — he  could 
hardly  call  his  soul  his  own. 

For  a  time  he  rented  a  studio  in  Paris.  I  asked 
him  why  ?  "I  am  so  overwhelmed  by  this  flock 
of  '  good  fellows  '  that  really  work  is  out  of  the 


PHIL  MAY  31 

question  and  my  only  chance  of  freedom  is  to  get 
right  away  out  of  their  reach."  And  yet  at  heart 
he  appeared  to  love  nothing  so  much  as  cheery 
companionship. 

He  told  me  that  on  one  of  his  numerous  trips  to 
Paris  he  broke  the  journey  at  Etaples  and  called 
upon  his  friend,  dear  old  Dudley  Hardy,  who  at 
that  time  was  living  there. 

Dudley,  it  appeared,  had  received  a  cheque  for 
fifty  pounds,  and  being  for  the  moment  bereft  of 
the  convenience  of  a  banking  account,  he  had  some 
difficulty  in  negotiating  a  draft  for  so  large  a  sum. 

"  It's  all  right,  Dudley,"  said  Phil,  "  I  can 
manage  it  for  you  in  Paris  and  I  will  bring  you  the 
money  on  my  return." 

Dudley,  wishing  to  save  his  friend  the  trouble  of 
returning  to  Etaples,  volunteered  to  accompany 
him  to  Paris.  Off  they  went  together,  and  not  only 
cashed  the  cheque  but  they  also  spent  the  money — 
as  Phil  remarked  in  telling  me  the  story,  "  We  had 
a  wild  day  !   " 

It  left  Phil  in  no  fit  state  to  tackle  his  weekly 
contribution  to  "  Punch,"  and  he  insisted  that 
Dudley  should  deputise  for  him.  This  his  friend, 
always  the  soul  of  good  nature,  readily  agreed  to 
do.  So  the  current  number  of  "  Punch  "  had  a 
Phil  May  signature  to  a  Dudley  Hardy  drawing. 

What  a  fascinating  companion  Phil  was  ! 

The  first  time  I  remember  meeting  him  was  in 
the  Chelsea  Arts  Club,  then  located  in  temporary 
premises  at  Jimmie  Christie's  lodgings  in  the  King's 
Road.  It  was  a  great  evening,  but  "  tell  it  not  in 
Gath  " — we    found   such   comfort   in   each   other's 


32         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

company  that  we  forgot  to  "  go  home  till  morning.'* 
This  made  the  succeeding  day  seem  dull  and  difficult 
by  comparison,  but  it  was  worth  it  and  I  am  glad 
we  did  it. 

It  was  broad  daylight  when  returning  home  dead 
tired  and  dropping  with  sleep  I  softly  tip-toed  up 
the  stairs  to  find  the  bedroom  door  ajar  and — much 
to  my  relief — a  small  flicker  of  gas  was  evidence  that 
my  dear  wife  had  slept  peacefully  through  the  night, 
oblivious  of  the  fact  that  her  lord  and  master  had 
not  returned.  Waking  to  find  me  fully  dressed 
as  I  turned  out  the  light  she  drowsily  enquired, 
"  Where  can  you  possibly  be  going  at  this  unearthly 
hour  ?  " 

Here  was  a  streak  of  luck  I  did  not  anticipate — 
or  deserve — and  I  weakly  explained  that  having 
passed  a  restless  night  I  was  about  to  start  out  for 
a  brisk  walk. 

"  Burning  my  boats  "  by  this  avowal,  I  was 
compelled  with  weary  feet  to  take  a  walk  I  did  not 
want  and  forego  the  few  hours'  sleep  I  so  sorely 
needed.  It  was  all  Phil's  fault,  and  I  hope  we  were 
both  forgiven.* 

It  is  only  fair  to  Phil  May's  memory  to  add,  and 
I  am  sure  that  all  his  friends  who  knew  him  best 
will  bear  me  out  in  this,  he  was  by  no  means  addicted 
to  intensive  libation.  It  was  to  him  more  a  symbol 
of  good  fellowship,  and  in  his  day  was  regarded  as 
the  indispensable  adjunct  to  every  congenial  gather- 
ing of  a  festive  character. 

*  The  seal  of  immortality  (so  I  am  told)  has  been  set  upon  this 
old  story  of  mine,  by  its  release  on  a  recent  film  featuring  the 
famous  Charlie  Chaplin. 


I'm  II    May. 

From  tin-  picture  piiintcil  by  Sir.Ianic^  Sliamioii.  K.A.  ( Menihre  )tr  I' liif/ihi/  di-  I'rtniie 

Afitiii'tttif  t/t'f  Hf4tnx  Art)*) . 


PHIL  MAY  33 

There  are  countless  stories  Phil  May  would  concoct 
and  evolve  around  himself  and  always  against 
himself.  About  the  same  time  that  the  wonderful 
portrait  of  him  was  painted  by  Sir  James  Shannon 
there  was  also  painted  a  portrait  of  his  friend  Sir 
Thomas  Dewar  (now  Lord  Dewar). 

Dear  old  Phil  was  the  victim  of  an  ailment  which 
had  already  somewhat  marred  his  pristine  beauty. 
This  unfortunate  erysipelas  spreading  over  his 
face,  might  easily  be  mistaken  for  and  attributed 
to  other  causes  usually  associated  with  good  cheer. 

It  was  his  suggestion  that  the  two  portraits  of 
Sir  Thomas  Dewar  and  himself  should  be  placed  in 
the  Royal  Academy,  hanging  as  pendant  to  each 
other  and  in  the  catalogue  entitled  "  Cause  "  and 
"  Effect." 

At  one  of  the  Bohemian  parties  given  by  Charles 
Bertram  the  night  was  already  far  spent — in  fact 
the  fun  had  been  prolonged  well  into  the  small  hours 
— and  Mrs.  May  protested  to  her  husband  that  it 
was  high  time  for  them  to  be  wending  their  way 
homewards.  Phil  replied,  "  My  dear  !  I  will  do 
anything  you  like  to  ask  of  me  in  reason — but — 
/  will  not  go  home." 

And  yet  in  spite  of  all  this  assumption  of  light- 
hearted  gaiety,  there  was  a  serious  side  to  Phil 
May  which  was  only  known  to  his  intimates. 

I  call  to  mind  one  evening  at  his  house  in  the 
Holland  Park  Road ;  the  dining-room  was  crowded 
with  noisy  revellers  helping  themselves  freely  to 
a  hospitality  which  was  always  boundless,  when 
Phil,  taking  me  away  by  the  arm,  led  me  upstairs 
into  his  working-room.     What  a  contrast  to   the 


34         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

rowdy  scene  down  below  !  Every  detail  necessary 
for  the  practice  of  his  masterly  draughtsmanship 
was  in  perfect  order,  and  with  simple  pride  he 
described  to  me  his  method  of  work.  Nothing 
appeared  to  be  left  to  chance.  He  proceeded  to 
illustrate  the  process  by  which  he  had  arrived  at 
his  ultimate  simplicity  of  line.  Over  an  elaborate 
drawing  he  stretched  a  sheet  of  tracing  paper,  and 
preserving  only  the  main  lines  of  construction  he 
found  that  by  eliminating  all  superfluous  detail  he 
could  present  his  picture  with  greater  force  and 
directness. 

The  sloping  desk  at  which  he  worked  was  for  all 
the  world  like  a  lectern,  and  Phil  himself,  sitting 
there  quietly  explaining  the  process  by  which  these 
wonderful  drawings  were  evolved  was,  with  head 
bowed  over  his  papers  and  books,  curiously  re- 
miniscent of  His  Holiness  Pope  Pius  the  Ninth. 

Oddly  enough  he  had  at  times  himself  slyly  traced 
a  humorous  resemblance  in  their  profiles. 

Crooning  away  in  the  musical  voice  it  was  always 
a  pleasure  to  listen  to,  there  he  sat  turning  over  the 
leaves  of  a  folio  of  sketches  with  his  exquisitely 
formed  hands,  hands  that  any  woman  might  be 
proud  to  possess. 

He  was  happy  as  a  child  in  escaping  for  a  moment 
from  the  smoke  and  din  downstairs,  the  noise  of 
which  just  reached  us  through  the  closed  door. 

Then  as  though  a  little  ashamed  of  having  been 
discovered — like  a  shy  girl  caught  reading  a  love- 
letter — he  closed  the  folio,  and  getting  down  from 
his  desk  said  :  "  What  a  shame  !  you  must  be  feeling 
thirsty." 


BILLY  PIKE  35 

Turning  down  the  light  in  his  sanctum  he  led  me 
back  again  to  the  blarers  in  the  room  below. 

It  was  the  only  occasion  upon  which  I  saw, 
and  then  only  for  a  moment,  a  glimpse  of  the  real 
Phil  May — the  greatest  artist  in  black  and  white 
of  all  time. 

I  did  not  see  Phil  during  his  last  illness,  but 
my  friend,  Sir  James  J.  Shannon,  who  was  one 
of  his  greatest  admirers,  visited  him  from  time 
to  time,  and  told  me  it  was  wonderful  how  Phil's 
sense  of  humour  rose  triumphant  over  all  his 
sufferings.  On  the  last  occasion  upon  which  he 
saw  him  alive  he  enquired  anxiously  as  to  his 
condition. 

Phil  smiled  faintly,  and  said,  "  The  doctor  seems 
to  be  in  two  minds  about  my  malady  ;  he  tells 
me  to  take  violent  exercise  for  my  liver  and  to 
keep  perfectly  still  for  my  lungs." 

The  next  time  Shannon  called  dear  old  Phil  had 
passed  away.  He  was  not  only  a  great  artist  but 
one  of  the  most  lovable  personalities  I  have  ever 
known. 

Another  attractive,  dear  fellow-artist  was  William 
Pike — "  Billy  Pike "  as  he  was  always  called. 
He  was  one  of  the  most  amusing  creatures  and 
devoted  to  all  manner  of  mischief  and  harmless 
practical  joking.  He  was  on  the  staff  of  the  "  Daily 
Graphic,"  and  together  with  several  other  artists 
attended  at  the  office  daily  to  produce  the  illustrations 
for  which  that  paper  was  then  famous.  There  were 
many  complaints  from  the  editor  and  sub-editors 
in  which  it  was  alleged  that  Billy  not  only  absented 


36  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

himself  a  good  deal  from  the  office,  but  that  he  was 
a  dangerous  companion  for  the  younger  artists 
on  the  staff,  who  could  not  resist  the  fascination 
of  accompanying  Billy  in  a  round  of  visits  to  his 
various  haunts.  These  complaints  at  length  reached 
the  ears  of  the  proprietor,  and  our  friend  Billy  was 
informed  that  his  services  would  be  dispensed  with 
after  a  certain  date. 

Some  months  later,  a  drawing  was  sent  in  on 
approval  signed,  "  Oliver  Paque."  This  drawing 
impressed  the  editor  so  much  by  its  cleverness 
that  he  wrote  at  once  to  the  address  given  and 
offered  the  artist  a  permanent  position  on  the  paper. 
Going  his  round  of  inspection  the  following  Monday 
he  was  astounded  to  see  William  Pike  in  his  old  seat 
at  the  drawing  table. 

"  Billy,  what  is  the  meaning  of  this  ?  I  gave  you 
the  sack  months  ago." 

"  Don't  '  Billy  '  me,"  said  our  old  friend,  "  my 
name  is  Oliver  Paque " — and  Oliver  Paque  he 
remained  to  the  end  of  his  days.  What  is  more, 
he  retained  his  post  to  the  last.  It  was  useless 
attempting  to  cope  with  ingenuity  so  subtle,  and 
the  authorities  resigned  themselves  to  his  little 
pleasantries  and  peculiarities,  as  in  spite  of  all  these 
vagaries  his  industry  and  talent  were  undeniable. 

The  Savage  Club  bristles  with  members  of  marked 
individuality,  but  of  all  my  contemporaries,  "  Ned  " 
Cleary  stood  out  in  a  class  by  himself.  If  you 
ranged  the  leading  lights  of  the  "  Savage  "  as  a 
constellation  of  "  the  sun,  moon  and  seven  stars  " 
there  is  no  question  about  the  place  where  Cleary 


EDWIN  CLEARY  37 

would  shine.  He  was  the  life  and  soul  of  any 
cluster  of  men  content  to  sit  around  merely  to 
listen  to  the  lure  of  the  spoken  word — he  illumined 
any  topic,  however  trivial,  and  lifted  it  out  of  the 
commonplace.  In  his  prime  I  used  to  regard  any 
day  during  which  I  had  not  seen  Edwin  Cleary  as 
a  day  wasted. 

Without  consulting  the  Club  records  I  am  unable 
to  state  under  which  heading  Cleary  based  his 
claim  for  election  as  a  "  Savage,"  but  he  was  so 
many-sided  he  could  easily  have  qualified  under 
either  literature,  science  or  the  drama.  We  first 
knew  him  as  an  excellent  actor — I  saw  him  in 
"  Held  by  the  Enemy,"  in  the  "  eighties."  He 
also  wrote  quite  a  good  curtain-raiser,  "  Editha's 
Burglar,"  and  many  years  later  a  war-book  entitled 
"  Israel,  V.C."  which,  much  to  my  surprise,  never 
went  to  publication.  The  story  of  a  Jew  in  the  Great 
War,  it  was  full  of  interest  dramatically  told,  but 
he  kept  on  tinkering  at  it  until,  tired  of  the  idea, 
he  turned  to  exercise  his  restless  brain  on  schemes 
of  another  character,  and  it  was  then  too  late  to 
engage  the  attention  of  any  large  public  in  a  book 
about  a  war  of  which  everybody  was  heart-sick. 

As  a  reciter  he  was  unrivalled.  Longfellow's 
poem,  "  The  Launch  of  the  Ship,"  he  recited  by 
special  request  before  the  great  poet  himself,  with 
whom  he  had  formed  a  close  and  lasting  friendship. 

During  a  long  connection  with  the  theatre,  he 
had  been  stage  manager  to  Salvini,  Edwin  Booth 
and  Richard  Mansfield,  and  had  organized  operatic 
ventures  for  Adelina  Patti,  Christine  Nilsson  and 
many  other  stars. 


38         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

He  also  ran  a  great  show  (and  what  a  wonderful 
showman  he  was!),  "Savage  South  Africa,"  at 
Earl's  Court,  with  C.  B.  Cochran  as  his  assistant. 
Emboldened  by  this  success  he  obtained  a  lease 
of  Olympia,  where  he  covered  the  entire  floor  space 
with  a  gigantic  green  carpet  of  thick  pile  with  almost 
the  resilience  of  real  turf.  There  he  proposed  to 
cater  for  the  holding  of  all  the  great  Football  Cup- 
Tie  Finals,  under  perfect  conditions,  free  from  mud 
and  impervious  to  frost,  with  seating  accommodation 
for  countless  thousands  of  spectators.  It  was  also 
to  be  utilised  for  a  vast  Sports  Club  which  he 
founded  for  tennis,  racquets  and  kindred  games. 

Into  this  great  scheme  he  flung  all  his  astounding 
energy — dashing  to  and  fro  in  his  motor-car  across 
his  green  sward.  No  detail  was  overlooked  and 
a  brilliant  idea  occurred  to  him.  To  add  a  note  of 
reality  to  his  "  grass  "  he  had  artificial  cattle  food 
scattered  about  and  flocks  of  real  sheep  grazing 
over  it  ! 

Unfortunately  he  had  omitted  to  obtain  the 
all-important  signature  of  Lord  Kinnaird,  then 
President  of  the  Football  Association,  for  the 
actual  holding  of  the  Cup-Tie  Finals  for  which  his 
Magic  Green  Carpet  had  been  specially  woven,  and 
upon  which  he  had  relied  to  reimburse  himself  for 
his  colossal  outlay. 

All  in  vain  he  substituted  exhibitions  of  the 
Basque  game  of  Pelota,  for  which  he  engaged 
special  players  from  Spain,  where  it  is  the  national 
pastime.  This  failed  to  attract  the  great  public, 
and,  forced  into  insolvency,  he  was  compelled  to 
surrender.    The  great  green  carpet,  cut  up  in  sections. 


J'hofo  hy  i'/auiic  Harris 


\'.\)\\  I  \    (    I.I.AK\  . 


EDWIN  CLEARY  39 

was  sold  piecemeal  by  public  auction  for  the  benefit 
of  his  creditors. 

A  little  chastened  but  all  undaunted  he  returned 
to  his  old  post — always  open  to  him — as  engineer 
in  the  service  of  his  life-long  friend,  George  Pauling, 
and  for  the  following  five  years  he  laboured 
unremittingly  in  the  completion  of  the  Beira 
Railway. 

It  was  on  the  homeward  journey  from  his  exile 
in  the  fever-stricken  swamps  of  East  Africa,  and 
not  many  miles  from  London,  that  from  his  carriage 
window  he  saw  a  strange  and  wonderful  sight — 
an  aeroplane  rising  from  Brooklands. 

His  five  years'  absence  from  civilization  had  not 
prepared  him  for  any  vision  of  this  character,  and 
his  showman's  instinct  was  immediately  aroused 
to  its  possibilities.  Jumping  out  of  the  train  at 
its  first  stopping  place,  he  made  a  bee-line  for 
Brooklands,  where  he  lost  no  time,  but  there  and 
then  engaged  Paulhan,  the  famous  French  aviator, 
for  exhibition  flights  to  be  held  at  Los  Angeles. 
Without  tarrying  a  day  in  London,  where  his  count- 
less friends  were  gathered  to  meet  him,  he  tore  off 
to  Paris  and  formed  a  syndicate  to  raise  funds  for 
his  project. 

In  this  he  was  completely  successful,  and  the 
American  Pressmen  in  Paris  cabled  columns  of 
advance  notices  heralding  the  forthcoming  aero- 
nautical display  at  Los  Angeles,  with  the  world- 
famous  Paulhan  as  chief  pilot. 

Once  more  a  great  fortune  appeared  to  be  at 
Cleary's  feet,  and  radiant  with  hope  they  sailed 
for  America. 


40         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Arrived  at  Los  Angeles,  where  a  great  Press 
campaign  had  preceded  them  and  a  vast  aviation 
ground  had  been  engaged  and  prepared  to  ac- 
commodate the  expected  multitudes,  they  were 
immediately  confronted  by  a  formidable  writ  of 
injunction  from  the  Brothers  Wright  for  the 
infringement  of  their  patent. 

Instead  of  the  triumph  he  had  anticipated, 
Cleary  became  instantly  involved  in  litigation  of 
a  tedious  and  prolonged  character  in  which  not  only 
the  whole  of  the  Syndicate's  capital  was  sunk, 
but  also  his  entire  savings  from  his  five  years'  toil 
on  the  Beira  Railway. 

Paulhan  was  compelled  to  return  to  France  long 
before  the  case  was  finished,  and  although  Cleary 
fought  and  won  a  moral  victory  by  eventually 
gaining  a  verdict — his  flying  man  had  departed — 
his  fortune  had  vanished,  and  his  opportunity  had 
passed. 

His  restless,  fertile  brain  seethed  with  a  perfect 
riot  of  fantastic  schemes  into  which  he  flung  the 
whole  of  his  fierce  dynamic  energy.  Imbued  with 
an  optimism  which  nothing  could  quench,  and 
gifted  with  an  adaptability  for  the  assimilation  of 
every  ramification  associated  with  enterprises  by 
which  he  was  for  the  moment  obsessed,  he  was 
enabled  in  an  incredibly  short  space  of  time  to 
unfold  his  plan  of  action  with  convincing  emphasis 
before  even  a  body  of  experts. 

His  versatility  was  bewildering.  He  had  been 
sent  out  to  Mexico  by  a  syndicate  to  report  upon  a 
radium  mine,  the  peculiar  properties  of  radium  being 
to  him  at  that  time  an  unknown  quantity.    On  his 


EDWIN  CLEARY  41 

return  from  this  survey  he  could  talk  of  nothing  but 
radium ;  radium  oozed  from  his  every  pore,  each 
nerve  in  his  powerful  frame  vibrated  with  radio- 
activity. 

He  was  due  to  submit  his  report  before  the  French 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  assembled  to  consider  the 
question  of  financing  the  syndicate  for  which 
Cleary's  services  had  been  retained.  I  accompanied 
him  to  Paris,  and  while  waiting  for  his  pubhc 
appearance  I  was  the  unofficial  audience  at  a 
practically  continuous  rehearsal.  Not  only  during 
the  daytime  did  he  daze  me  by  torrents  of  radio- 
talk,  but  also  during  the  night  he  would  insist  upon 
demonstrations  illustrated  by  a  lump  of  uranium 
ore  charged  with  minute  particles  of  radium. 

For  these  demonstrations  it  was  absolutely  essen- 
tial that  we  should  sit  for  at  least  forty  minutes  in  a 
Cimmerian  darkness  from  which  every  suspicion  of 
light  had  been  excluded  in  order  that  the  vision 
should  have  forgotten  even  the  recollection  of  light. 
Then,  and  not  till  then,  did  he  produce  the  specimen 
extracted  from  the  Mexican  radium  mine,  and  what 
a  wonderful  sight  it  was — like  a  fistful  of  tiny  stars. 

He  made  a  marvellous  appearance  before  the 
Chamber  of  Commerce,  and  though  his  French  was 
far  from  fluent  he  was  able  to  hold  forth  for  two 
hours  before  that  august  assembly,  keeping  them 
spellbound  by  his  learned  and  technical  dissertation 
on  all  the  properties  and  possibilities  of  radium  as  a 
paying  proposition. 

It  was  certainly  no  fault  of  Cleary's  that,  though 
enthralled  by  his  eloquence,  the  French  Chamber  of 
Commerce    was   not    unanimous   in    agreement    to 


42         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

furnish  the  financial  support  necessary  to  the 
scheme.  It  was,  however,  conceded  that  his 
demonstration  was  a  marvellous  achievement,  and 
this  in  spite  of  the  handicap  of  a  foreign  language 
with  which  he  was  very  imperfectly  familiar. 

Cleary  was  hurried  away  by  his  supporters  from 
the  scene  of  his  triumph  to  our  appartement  at 
the  Grand  Hotel  like  a  champion  heavy-weight  who 
had  been  declared  a  winner  on  "points."  There, 
having  divested  himself  of  all  the  details  of  his  State 
habihments,  for  he  had  been  attired  in  every 
particular  like  a  Cabinet  Minister  on  the  occasion  of 
a  full-dress  debate,  he  sat  on  a  bedroom  chair  in 
nothing  but  his  "  undies,"  surrounded  by  a  group 
of  voluble  Frenchmen  standing  over  him  gesticu- 
lating their  congratulations  and  dictating  plans  for 
future  action.  The  floor  of  the  room  and  the  tossed 
bed  were  littered  with  dishevelled  wearing  apparel 
and  rumpled  linen — there  could  not  have  been  a 
greater  contrast  to  his  appearance  and  surroundings 
only  an  hour  before. 

A  cab  was  in  waiting  to  convey  us  to  the  Gare  du 
Nord  with  only  forty  minutes  in  which  to  catch  the 
boat-train  to  London,  so  there  was  no  time  to  be 
lost.  I  threw  Cleary 's  travelling  clothes  at  him, 
crammed  the  rest  of  Ids  belongings  somehow  into 
his  trunk,  pushed  the  syndicate,  still  arguing,  out 
into  the  corridor,  squeezed  him  half  dazed  into  his 
greatcoat,  ushered  in  the  waiter,  paid  the  bill  and 
tore  to  the  lift  all  in  one  breathless  rush.  As  we 
scrambled  into  the  taxi,  I  said  :  "  We  shall  never 
be  in  time  for  the  train." 

"Never  mind  the  train,"    replied  Cleary,    "to- 


EDWIN  CLEARY  43 

morrow  will  do.  I  want  to  take  you  out  to  the  suburb 
of  Paris  where  I  stayed  as  a  boy  of  fifteen.  There  is 
a  tiny  cafe  where  I  used  to  take  my  simple  meals, 
better  far  than  all  these  gaudy  restaurants.  I  can 
easily  find  it  though  I  have  never  been  there  since. 
We  will  go  there  for  dejeuner." 

Depositing  our  luggage  at  the  station  we  started 
on  our  five-mile  tramp  along  the  great  Boulevard. 
He  stopped  at  last,  choking  with  laughter,  and 
pointing  across  the  wide  thoroughfare,  cried : 
"  There  it  is,  or  at  least,  there  it  was  !  " 

The  spell  he  had  woven  round  the  little  estaminet 
was  broken.  The  little  tuck-shop  of  his  youth, 
hallowed  by  so  many  tender  memories  had  changed 
hands.  The  window  no  longer  dressed  with  appe- 
tizing dainties  now  appealed  to  a  passing  public 
with  a  display  of  all  the  furniture  appertaining  to  a 
third-class  funeral.    It  was  an  undertaker's. 

Eventually  our  fast  had  to  be  broken  at  an 
adjacent  fish-shop,  where  we  were  regaled  with 
relays  of  "  Marennes  "  oysters,  washed  down  with 
white  wine  of  a  nebulous  vintage — thin  in  character, 
but  there  was  plenty  of  it. 

Returning  to  Paris  afoot — all  vehicular  traffic 
having  been  suspended  owing  to  the  celebration  of 
Mi-car eme — we  finally  arrived  breathless,  exhausted 
and  smothered  in  confetti. 

It  was  typical  of  this  amazing  man  that  within  a 
few  hours  and  during  the  same  day  he  had  com- 
pletely swept  all  memory  of  radium  from  his  mind, 
and  was  already  deeply  immersed  in  the  details  of  a 
mammoth  spectacular  reproduction  of  Egyptian 
splendour  in  the  time  of  the  Pharaohs.     For  this 


44         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

purpose  he  spent  our  last  few  hours  in  Paris  ransack- 
ing theatrical  shops  in  search  of  photographs, 
costumes  and  all  material  necessary  to  the  prepara- 
tions for  his  new  venture. 

For  our  return  journey  to  London  he  engaged  a 
private  saloon  carriage  which  he  littered  with 
sketches  and  designs  of  the  scenario  of  this  desert 
production.  His  boundless  enthusiasm  never 
wavered  for  a  moment ;  he  was  convinced  that  at 
last  he  would  electrify  theatrical  London. 

Having  hardly  recovered  from  my  mental  over- 
dose of  radio-activity  I  was  frankly  in  no  condition 
to  keep  pace  with  my  versatile  companion  in  his 
sudden  plunge  backwards  from  Madame  Curie  to 
the  Pharaohs.  The  tension  was,  however,  tre- 
mendously relieved  by  the  welcome  appearance  on 
the  boat  at  Boulogne  of  a  distinguished  Brother 
Savage,  Sir  Ernest  Shackleton,  full  of  plans  for 
further  great  adventures  amid  unexplored  tracts  of 
snow  and  ice.  Radium  and  the  mirage  of  the 
desert  were  alike  completely  obliterated,  and  my 
fevered  brain  was  fanned  and  cooled  by  the  vivid 
pictures  of  Shackleton's  Polar  experiences,  which 
dominated  all  our  undiminished  interest  to  the  end 
of  the  journey. 

We  separated  at  Charing  Cross  and  never  again 
on  any  subsequent  occasion  did  I  hear  Cleary 
allude  to  either  radium  or  the  land  of  the 
Pharaohs. 

A  later  brilliant  scheme  of  his  was  for  the  building 
of  a  great  stadium  on  the  roof  of  Victoria  Station.  It 
was  to  be  used  as  a  vast  central  hall  for  the  holding 
of  exhibitions  of  the  character  usually  held  either  at 


EDWIN  CLEARY  45 

Olympia  or  the  Crystal  Palace.  This  fairy  sports 
palace  of  his  dreams  would  rest  aloft  supported  on 
stately  columns  of  burnished  brass  rising  from  each 
platform  of  the  railway  station. 

For  this  enterprise  he  had  drawings  to  scale 
prepared  at  his  own  cost  under  the  supervision  of 
eminent  firms  of  contracting  engineers.  Every 
detail  of  cost  had  been  passed  and  certified  by  expert 
accountants,  and  the  plans  had  the  warm  approval 
of  the  Board  of  Directors  representing  the  London, 
Brighton  and  the  London,  Chatham  and  Dover 
Railways.  A  wealthy  syndicate  to  guarantee  the 
immense  cost  of  the  undertaking  was  already  being 
formed  when  all  the  elaborate  plans  for  the  realiza- 
tion of  his  lofty  fantasy  were  scattered  to  the  four 
winds  by  the  outbreak  of  the  Great  War. 

As  a  war  correspondent  he  made  a  great  mark 
during  the  world  war  and  figured  prominently  in 
the  thrilling  last  days  of  the  defence  of  Antwerp. 
He  also  played  an  important  part  in  a  wild  plot 
for  the  restoration  of  the  Monarchy  in  Portugal. 

Another  project  with  which  he  was  associated 
was  for  the  purchase  and  development  of  the  island 
of  Herm.  The  property  had  fallen  into  the  market 
— the  previous  owner,  Prince  Blucher,  having  been 
compelled  on  the  outbreak  of  the  Great  War  to 
return  to  his  Fatherland. 

Cleary  was  to  be  Lord-Lieutenant  of  the  island, 
and  an  opulent  member  of  the  Savage  Club  was 
induced  to  promise  his  financial  support  to  the 
scheme  on  condition  that  he  should  be  invested 
with  the  mysterious  and  nebulous  office  of  "Tim- 
arch."     On   the  strength    of    this    he    entertained 


46         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

at  supper  a  group  of  sympathetic  "  Savages,'  and 
was  quite  lavish  as  became  a  brother-member 
shortly  to  be  invested  with  all  the  dignity  of 
office. 

Unfortunately  he  had  gathered  the  impression 
that  this  disbursement  of  his  ready  money  to 
popularise  the  scheme  for  taking  over  the  affairs 
of  the  island  would  eventually  fall  upon  the 
Treasury  of  Herm.  As  provisional  Lord-Lieutenant, 
Cleary  disclaimed  as  beneath  his  dignity  any 
personal  responsibility  for  details  of  finance,  and 
there  and  then  invested  me  with  plenary  powers, 
as  temporary  Chancellor  of  the  Exchequer,  to  use 
my  best  endeavour  to  allay  the  misgivings  of  the 
"  Timarch." 

In  this  I  was  only  partially  successful. 

The  outstanding  feature  of  the  purchase  of  the 
island  was  the  exceptional  opportunities  it  offered 
to  sportsmen  of  every  class.  To  begin  with,  its 
late  proprietor  had  not  been  able  to  remove  his 
unique  collection  of  wild  animals.  The  sudden 
surrender  of  his  domain  had  also  withdrawn  the 
staff  employed  for  their  care  and  custody,  and  this 
choice  assortment  of  live  lions  would  probably 
be  prowling  loose  all  over  the  island.  Here  to  hand 
was  the  unique  opportunity  for  big  game  shooting 
within  twenty-four  hours  of  London.  No  time  was 
to  be  lost,  lest  the  lions,  restored  to  freedom  and 
missing  their  regular  rations,  might  become  danger- 
ously wild. 

In  spite  of  these  unrivalled  attractions  this 
venture  also  fell  to  the  ground. 

Cleary,   although  seized   with   a  sudden  serious 


EDWIN  CLEARY  47 

illness,  was  soon  immersed  in  another  enterprise, 
the  production  of  his  wonderful  lamp — an  invention 
which,  had  his  life  been  spared,  would  have  brought 
him  the  great  fortune  which  his  genius  had  so  often 
nearly  placed  within  his  grasp. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY.  EDWARD  VII  AND  OSCAR 
WILDE.  GEORGE  ALEXANDER  AND  OSCAR  WILDE. 
THE  MAN  WHO   WOULD   BE  AN   R.A,      W.  E.  F.  BRITTEN 

LOOKING  backward  is  a  most  unprofitable 
pastime.     Most  men  indulge  in  this  folly 
J  of  retrospection  from  time  to  time,  and 
fancy,  after  all,  that  had  they  adopted  a 
different  calling  in  life  they  would  have  been  more 
successful. 

Against  this  a  very  able  man,  popular  everywhere, 
but  who  had  always  lacked  the  means  to  gratify 
his  cultured  tastes,  said  in  reply  to  a  tirade  against 
circumstances  from  a  talented  but  disappointed 
man  :  "I  believe  that  every  man  does  the  best 
he  is  capable  of  under  any  circumstances." 

This  was  the  reply  of  J.  Comyns  Carr,  the 
dramatist,  in  argument  with  W.  E.  F.  Britten,  an 
unappreciated  man  of  genius.  The  discussion  took 
place  at  a  party  held  at  the  old  Grosvenor  Gallery. 
What  parties  those  were !  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay, 
the  proprietor  of  the  Gallery,  was  a  princely  host, 
and  assembled  all  and  sundry  on  those  occasions, 
from  H.R.H.  Edward,  Prince  of  Wales,  down  to 
the  queerest  little  characters  from  the  third  floor 

backs  of  Battersea. 

48 


THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY  49 

J.  Comyns  Carr  was  one  of  his  directors — Charles 
Halle  was  another,  and  one  of  the  most  brilliant 
men  of  his  time,  being  very  welcome  everywhere, 
though,  in  common  with  many  worse  and  better 
men,  was  frequently  in  financial  straits.  On  one 
of  these  occasions,  tired  of  bothering  his  many 
friends,  he  was  puzzled  how  on  earth  to  find  the 
"  needful."  Fortunately  for  him,  the  late  Sir 
George  Lewis,  who  was  a  great  friend  to  most 
authors,  actors,  artists  and  musicians,  heard  of 
his  trouble  and  volunteered  to  supply  him  with 
£500,  saying  :  "I  can  easily  afford  this  and  you 
are  under  no  necessity  ever  to  think  of  it  again." 
I  had  always  been  told  that  the  Jews  are  generous 
to  each  other,  but  was  unaware  until  then  that  they 
extended  their  liberality  to  individuals  outside 
their  own  race  and  religion. 

Socially,  the  Grosvenor  Gallery  quite  eclipsed 
the  Academy.  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay  had  an  unusual 
iiair  for  the  giving  of  successful  functions.  We  were 
bidden,  on  one  special  occasion  in  my  memory,  to 
meet  H.R.H.  the  Prince  of  Wales.  All  that  was 
eminent  in  society,  literature,  art  and  politics 
was  represented.  When  word  announcing  the 
arrival  of  the  royal  party  was  passed  round,  we 
assembled  ourselves  in  two  columns  on  each  side 
of  the  Long  Gallery,  allowing  a  clear  passage  for 
the  royal  progress  from  the  entrance  to  a  specially 
reserved  space  in  the  centre  of  the  great  Gallery, 
where  Prince  Edward  was  to  hold  an  informal 
court,  surrounded  by  his  equerries  and  a  number 
of  personal  friends. 

From  where  I  stood  I  had  an  excellent  view  of 


50         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

the  Prince  as  he  advanced  through  the  room,  bowing 
his  acknowledgments  to  right  and  left.  When  about 
opposite  me,  he  left  the  line,  and  with  extended 
hand  cordially  greeted  the  man  standing  next  to 
me  ;  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  see  the  only  greeting 
that  showed  any  pronounced  personal  note. 

My  neighbour  was  Oscar  Wilde,  a  man  already 
famous  and  a  noticeable  figure  in  social  London,  and 
certainly  one  of  the  most  remarkable  personalities 
among  the  famous  people  with  whom  I  have  been 
brought  in  contact.  He  made  for  himself  a  great 
name  by  his  genius  as  the  author  of  immortal 
comedies,  yet  he  died  the  death  of  an  outcast,  after 
suffering  a  disgrace  so  deep,  and  a  shame  so  pro- 
found, that  his  name  hitherto  famous  could  hardly 
be  whispered  in  everyday  society. 

Our  code  is  so  pitiless.  People  fastened  upon  any 
flaw  in  his  character,  ignoring  the  undoubted 
genius  of  his  work  and  took  a  morbid  interest 
in  all  the  details  of  his  tragic  downfall.  His  plays 
were  withdrawn,  and  his  poems  and  books  hidden 
away,  and  even  now,  though  a  quarter  of  a  century 
has  passed,  the  name  of  Oscar  Wilde  is  a  by-word, 
and  his  gentleness  of  qualities  and  kindness,  which 
are  all  I  remember  of  him,  are  certainly  forgotten. 

Whatever  people  may  have  known  or  thought 
otherwise  I  never  saw  him  during  that  early  period 
in  any  company  where  he  failed  to  interest  and 
attract  by  his  sparkling  wit  and  charm  of  manner. 

Sir  George  Alexander  appeared  to  me  as  the  perfect 
embodiment  of  all  that  stood  for  kindness  and 
consideration — allied  to  a  constant  desire  to  render 
helpful  service   to  all  and  sundry.     He   was  also 


THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY  51 

able  to  help  himself — steering  clear  of  all  pitfalls 
and  dangers  into  which  actor-managers,  both  great 
and  small,  have  fallen  from  time  to  time.  He 
amassed  quite  a  considerable  fortune  after  living  in 
ease  and  elegance  for  the  greater  part  of  his  career. 
All  the  parts  that  really  matter — the  midsummer 
and  autumn  seasons  of  existence — were  full  of  sun- 
shine, a  popular  stage  favourite  and,  what  meant 
almost  more  to  him,  a  great  social  success. 

It  may  not  be  generally  known  that  he  was 
really  responsible  for  launching  Oscar  Wilde  on  his 
brief  but  brilliant  career  as  a  dramatist. 

It  appeared  that  having  failed  to  induce  Wilde 
to  write  him  a  play,  in  spite  of  the  fact  that  he  was 
frequently  embarrassed  through  lack  of  funds, 
Alexander  insisted  upon  his  accepting  the  sum  of 
£100  as  payment  in  advance  for  a  new  play.  Oscar's 
indolence  and  luxurious  habits  were  a  serious 
handicap  to  any  undertaking  requiring  steady 
application.  The  £100  had  a  very  brief  existence, 
and  the  liability  involved  had  already  become 
somewhat  of  an  embarrassment  upon  occasions 
when  they  met,  and  relations  were  rather  strained 
when  at  last  Wilde  appeared  with  the  manuscript 
of  "  Lady  Windermere's  Fan." 

Alexander  read  the  play,  and  being  impressed 
by  its  quality  offered  to  purchase  it  outright  for 
£1000.  Hard  up  as  he  was,  Wilde  had  sufficient 
confidence  in  his  work  to  decline  this  offer,  preferring 
to  risk  the  alternative  of  payment  by  royalties. 
That  he  was  justified  in  this  view  was  eventually 
proved  by  the  fact  that  the  original  run  of  the  piece 
brought  him  £7000  as  his  share  of  the  profits. 


52         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

After  the  abortive  action  for  libel  brought  by 
Wilde  against  the  Marquis  of  Queensberry  which 
involved  his  subsequent  arrest,  he  spent  the  interval 
prior  to  standing  his  trial  on  a  criminal  charge,  on 
bail  in  the  south  of  France.  Alexander  took  it  upon 
himself  to  implore  Wilde  to  risk  the  estreating  of 
his  bail  by  remaining  out  of  the  country  and  the 
clutches  of  the  law,  but  this  Wilde  resolutely  declined 
to  do,  confident  in  his  own  ability  to  clear  himself 
of  the  charges  brought  against  him. 

"  No,"  said  he  to  Alexander,  "  I  will  return  and 
take  my  trial  like  an  English  gentleman  " — with 
what  disastrous  results  is  now  a  matter  of  history. 

Although  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay's  enterprise  proved 
a  rival  attraction  to  the  Royal  Academy,  he  did  not 
close  his  doors  to  members  of  that  institution,  and 
he  entertained  them  and  their  work  ungrudgingly. 
At  one  of  his  evening  parties  I  met  an  artist  who 
was  not  only  ambitious  to  become  an  R.A.,  but 
made  it  evident  by  persistent  and  assiduous  attention 
to  each  and  every  member  of  the  Academy.  He  made 
it  his  business  to  know  them  all,  even  remembering 
their  birthdays.  Being  a  kind  fellow  at  heart  his 
cordiality  knew  no  bounds,  but  there  were  occasions 
when  members  of  the  R.A.  found  the  approach  of 
their  admirer  a  trifle  overwhelming. 

During  the  evening  of  which  I  speak,  a  guest 
was  suddenly  taken  rather  unwell,  and  sought  the 
seclusion  of  the  cloakroom,  where  he  found  the 
accommodation,  limited  as  it  was,  to  be  already 
occupied.  Becoming  rather  impatient  after  repeated 
appeals  to  the  occupant  of  the  solitary  retreat,  he 


THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY  53 

waxed   indignant    and   asked :     "  What    on   earth 
are  you  doing  in  there,  sir  ?  " 

The  door  was  opened  ever  so  sUghtly,  and  the 
occupant    whispered,    "  Sh — h  !     I'm   hiding   from 

Alfred ,"  mentioning  the  name  of  the  man  who 

was  striving  so  dihgently  to  make  himself  persona 
grata  with  all  the  important  people  on  the  earth. 

One  of  the  Grosvenor  exhibitions  was  a  notable 
collection  of  pictures  by  Sir  J.  E.  Millais,  Bart., 
P.R.A.  I  remember  a  malicious  remark  at  the 
private  view  :  Whistler  on  being  asked  what  he 
thought  of  the  show,  said  that  it  was  "  the  apotheosis 
of  pot-boiling." 

There  was  an  attempt  about  this  time  to  revive 
the  popularity  of  drawings  in  pastel,  and  an 
important  exhibition  of  drawings  in  this  charming 
medium  was  held  at  the  Grosvenor.  A  wealthy, 
well-known  collector  of  pictures  was  so  much 
impressed  that  he  enquired  of  m.y  friend,  W.  E.  F. 
Britten,  as  to  whether  he  should  purchase  any  of 
these  drawings.  He  said  :  "I  am  told  that  they 
are  not  very  permanent,  and  are  liable  to  fall  in  a 
dust  if  they  are  not  handled  with  extreme  care." 
Britten,  himself  a  great  pastellist,  replied  :  "  Oh, 
you  buy  'em  while  they're  fresh  !  " 

About  Britten  a  thousand  stories  could  be  told. 
He  was  a  man  of  rare  genius,  but  impossible 
temperament,  possessing  an  unbridled  tongue  which 
under  no  circumstances  did  he  ever  attempt  to 
control ;  certainly  never  when  it  was  of  paramount 
importance  as  affecting  his  career  that  he  should 
exercise  a  little  restraint.  His  exquisite  sense  of 
fun  made  him  an  incomparable  companion  ;    even 


54         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

his  very  recklessness  was  refreshing,  and  his  utter 
disregard  of  consequences  took  one's  breath  away. 
Of  course,  as  may  be  supposed,  he  was  for  ever  in 
dire  straits  for  money,  and  was  compelled  to  appeal 
to  those  more  successful  brother-artists,  all  of  whom 
readily  acknowledged  the  exquisite  nature  of  his  work. 

Lord  Leighton,  one  of  his  most  ardent  admirers, 
helped  him  times  without  number.  On  one  occa- 
sion a  Volunteer  colonel  of  ample  means  wished 
Leighton  to  paint  his  portrait  in  uniform.  Although 
a  large  fee  was  involved,  Leighton  had  no  great 
love  for  the  undertaking,  and  persuaded  the  gallant 
colonel  that  a  man  of  genius  named  Britten  would 
produce  for  him  a  better  portrait  at  the  same  fee. 
Accordingly  an  appointment  was  made,  and  on 
a  certain  morning  the  doughty  warrior  in  full  war 
paint  arrived  at  Britten's  studio,  which  was  a  strange 
barn-like  place  down  a  dark  passage,  previously 
operating  as  a  cab-yard. 

Whether  it  was  the  effect  of  emerging  from  the 
Cimmerian  darkness  of  the  passage  into  the  glare 
of  a  top-lighted,  strange  studio  littered  by  all  sorts 
of  unexpected  impedimenta,  certain  it  is  that  our 
warrior  stumbled,  tripped  very  badly  over  his 
unaccustomed  sword,  and  tumbled  headlong  into 
his  first  introduction  to  his  portrait  painter. 

Britten,  his  risibihty  suddenly  aroused  by  the 
absurdity  of  the  situation,  received  his  new  patron 
with  a  fit  of  laughter  so  sustained  and  uncontrollable 
that  the  Volunteer  colonel  had  time  to  collect 
himself,  and,  with  all  the  injured  dignity  at  his 
command,  he  marched  out  of  the  studio,  to  which 
he  never  returned. 


THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY  55 

Britten  from  time  to  time  received  large  sums 
for  his  work,  and  then  followed  radiant  days  for  all 
his  friends  ;  the  tap  literally  never  stopped  dripping 
till  the  tank  was  empty.  A  period  of  this  character 
occurred  during  his  brief  membership  of  the  Savage 
Club.  Full  of  money,  good  wine  and  fine  feelings, 
he  approached  Sir  David  Salamon,  one  of  the  trustees 
of  the  Club,  and  said  :  "  Salamon,  I  want  you  to 
dine  with  me.  I  am  inviting  a  few  friends  and 
I  would  like  to  fix  an  evening  convenient  to 
you." 

*'  Delighted  to  come,  my  dear  Britten,"  said 
Salamon.  "  Let  me  see,  I  am  engaged  to-morrow 
and  Wednesday — what  about  Thursday  ?  " 

"  Certainly.  Thursday,  at  eight  o'clock.  What 
do  you  think  about  goose  and  champagne  ?  " 

"  Nothing  could  be  better,"  said  Salamon. 

Accordingly,  on  the  following  Thursday,  Salamon 
arrived  at  the  appointed  hour,  and  going  into  the 
dining-room  found  Britten  sitting  alone  with  a 
periodical  in  front  of  him,  just  finishing  a  chop  and 
potatoes.  He  looked  up  at  the  approach  of  Salamon, 
and  said  :    "  Hullo,  are  you  dining  here  ?  " 

"  Well,  my  dear  Britten,  as  a  matter  of  fact  Tm 
dining  with  you." 

"  Oh,"  said  Britten,  "  that's  off." 

About  this  period  I  happened  to  be  staying 
at  Retford  with  my  old  friend,  Charles  Marshall. 
He  was  then  a  bachelor,  living  in  a  lovely  old  place, 
full  of  everything  that  is  beautiful  in  pictures, 
furniture  and  glass  ;  in  fact  he  was  one  of  the 
pioneers  of  forty  years  ago  who  rescued  household 


56         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

decoration  from  the  abyss  in  which  it  had  been 
submerged  during  the  Victorian  era.  It  was 
during  this  visit  that  Britten  wrote  to  me  that  he 
happened  to  be  staying  in  Sheffield,  engaged  upon 
some  decorations  to  a  church,  and  suggested  that 
he  would  like  to  break  his  journey  back  to  London 
by  spending  the  night  at  Retford.  I  mentioned 
this  to  my  host,  and  he  at  once  said  :  "By  all 
means  tell  your  friend  that  he  will  be  more  than 
welcome  here." 

On  the  date  fixed,  my  host,  who  never  failed  to 
make  hospitality  a  religious  duty,  arranged  a  dinner 
quite  beyond  the  ample  fare  usually  prepared.  The 
brougham  was  sent  to  meet  the  train  and  returned 
empty ;  the  next  train  was  met  and  dinner 
postponed.  Eventually,  after  an  embarrassing 
wait,  dinner  was  served  and  cleared.  I  had  to  make 
the  best  of  a  difficult  situation,  saying  and  hoping 
that  something  unexpected  had  happened,  and 
that  an  explanation  would  swiftly  follow. 

Next  day  brought  no  letter  or  message,  but  after 
dinner,  about  nine  o'clock,  Britten  arrived,  dusty 
and  travel-stained,  without  a  particle  of  luggage, 
and  volunteered  no  explanation  or  apology.  A 
special  meal  was  produced,  after  which  my  friend 
stretched  himself  out  in  his  dusty  boots  and  made 
merry. 

Later,  when  Britten  had  retired,  our  host  in  his 
good-natured  way  said  to  me  as  he  bade  me  good- 
night :  "  How  very  nice  of  Britten  not  to  apologize 
or  explain  his  delay.    He  is  quite  delightful." 

I  had  to  leave  Retford  the  following  day,  and  on 
my  return  there  later  in  the  week  was  astonished  to 


THE  GROSVENOR  GALLERY  57 

find  Britten  wandering  about  the  town,  utterly 
disconsolate  and  wretched. 

"  What  are  you  doing  here  ?  "  I  asked. 

He  replied,  "  I'm  sick  of  the  place  and  bored  to 
death.'* 

"  The  solution  is  quite  simple.  There  is  an 
excellent  train  to  town  at  1.40,"  I  said. 

"  Jolly  good  idea,"  Britten  repHed. 

When  I  interviewed  my  friend  Marshall,  later 
in  the  day,  he  told  me  that  Britten  had  rushed  into 
his  office,  grasped  him  warmly  by  the  hand,  and 
hurriedly  insisted  that  he  had  had  lots  to  eat, 
and  must  hurry  away  to  catch  his  train.  He  had 
come  for  one  night  and  stayed  a  week. 

On  my  return  to  town  I  saw  Britten,  and  said  : 
"  Of  course  you  have  written  to  Marshall  thanking 
him  for  his  hospitality  ?  " 

He  answered,  "  I  shall  do  nothing  of  the  sort.  I 
hated  the  whole  thing." 

This  broke  a  life-long  friendship, — for  Marshall 
and  myself  were  never  quite  the  same  again. 


CHAPTER  IV 

THE   RAID   ON   READING 

SOME  few  years  previous  to  my  acquaintance 
with  Britten  he  had  as  a  patron  a  somewhat 
eccentric  member  of  Parhament  named 
Hermon,  a  man  of  considerable  wealth, 
with  a  beautiful  place,  Wyfold  Court,  near  Reading. 
Britten  had  painted  some  large  designs  in  mono- 
chrome, and  having  seen  photographs  of  these  panels 
which  decorated  a  long  corridor  at  Wyfold  Court, 
I  often  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  see  the  originals. 
Britten  told  me  that  Mr.  Hermon  was  no  longer 
alive  (as  a  matter  of  fact  he  died  in  the  House  of 
Commons),  and  the  present  proprietor  of  Wyfold 
Court,  Mr.  Hermon  Hodge  (Mr.  Hermon's  son-in-law) 
was  only  slightly  known  to  him. 

However,  I  was  so  persistent  in  my  desire  to  see 
the  originals  of  what  I  considered  to  be  some  of 
the  finest  designs  I  had  ever  seen  by  a  modern 
artist,  that  Britten  eventually  wrote  to  Mr.  Hermon 
Hodge.  He  showed  me  Mr.  Hodge's  reply,  which 
ran  something  hke  this :  "  My  dear  Britten,  I 
remember  you  perfectly  after  all  these  years.  Come 
down  here  by  all  means.  Come  next  Sunday.  We 
lunch  at  one-thirty,  and  shall  be  glad  to  see  you." 
I  pointed  out  to  Britten,  who  was  quite  unlearned 

58 


THE  RAID  ON  READING  59 

in  every  little  order  of  social  detail,  that  the 
invitation  did  not  include  me.  He  protested  that 
I  was  too  fastidious,  and  that  it  would  be  perfectly 
all  right.  But,  as  I  was  quite  firm,  he  wrote  again, 
saying  that  he  would  be  glad  to  go  the  following 
Sunday,  and  might  he  bring  a  friend.  The  next 
day  he  showed  me  a  telegram  :  ''  Delighted  to  see 
you  and  your  friend.  The  carriage  will  meet  the 
ten-thirty  from  Paddington." 

The  Savage  Club,  thirty  years  ago,  contained  a 
number  of  remarkable  people — men  distinguished 
in  their  various  callings  but  who  despised  convention, 
and  regarded  any  care  bestowed  upon  dress  or 
appearance  as  foppish  and  contemptible. 

During  that  week  I  was  in  the  Club  daily,  and  was 
a  little  surprised  and  alarmed  to  find  that  a  largish 
party  would  assemble  on  Sunday  morning  with 
the  idea  of  accompanying  Britten  and  myself  to 
Reading.  I  pointed  out  to  Britten  that  the  invita- 
tion was  not  comprehensive,  and  was  intended 
as  distinctly  stated  to  mean  *'  yourself  and  friend." 

To  my  horror  and  dismay  I  found  that  he  had 
included  practically  the  whole  Club  in  a  general 
invitation.  I  was  constantly  being  asked  by  all 
sorts  of  weird  members  :  "  Are  you  going  to  Reading 
on  Sunday  ?  "  Thoroughly  alarmed  at  the  prospect 
of  all  these  queer  people  being  plumped  down, 
uninvited,  on  a  perfectly  strange  country  house, 
I  appealed  to  Britten  and  pointed  out  that  he  was 
taking  a  grave  risk  by  this  haphazard  undertaking. 
All  he  said  was  that  although  the  expedition  was 
designed  especially  for  me  I  was  perfectly  at  liberty 
to  stop  away,  and  that  whatever  happened  they 


6o         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

were  determined  co  have  a  grand  day.  Of  course, 
I  could  not  stand  out  against  this,  and  though 
full  of  foreboding,  I  promised  to  appear  at 
Paddington  on  Sunday  morning  in  time  to  catch 
the  ten-thirty  for  Reading. 

The  House  Dinners  at  the  Savage  Club,  held  each 
Saturday  night,  are  famous  to  this  day,  but 
thirty-odd  years  ago  the  habitues  mustered  in 
stronger  force  and  certainly  the  entertainment 
was  carried  further  into  the  small  hours  of  the 
Sabbath  than  is  the  custom  in  these  days.  Dinner 
was  followed  by  supper,  a  renowned  concoction  of 
tripe  and  onions,  and  perhaps  a  buck  rabbit,  and 
not  infrequently  a  fresh  musical  evening  would  be 
launched.  At  some  of  these  belated  gatherings  I 
have  heard  brilliant  performances  from  the  very 
best  artistes  which  the  Club  could  boast. 

So  it  was  on  this  evening  preceding  the  expedition 
to  Reading,  and  several  members  of  the  proposed 
party  agreed  that,  in  order  not  to  oversleep  them- 
selves and  so  miss  the  train,  it  would  be  better  to 
make  a  night  of  it  and  then  proceed  leisurely  to 
Paddington  in  plenty  of  time  for  the  ten-thirty. 
As  most  of  them  relied  mainly  on  a  solitary  suit  of 
clothes  there  was  no  change  either  necessary  or 
in  most  cases  possible.  That  Saturday  night  I 
retired  early,  feeling  that  much  might  be  expected 
of  me  in  the  morning,  and  I  was  not  to  be  disap- 
pointed. 

The  scene  on  the  platform  at  Paddington  will 
palpitate  in  my  memory  as  long  as  I  Uve.  After 
a  restful  night,  and  clad  in  country  clothes,  I  arrived 
in  good  time  and  found  Britten  already  there.    Even 


THE  RAID  ON  READING  6i 

by  himself  he  would  be  difficult  to  explain  to  a 
crowd  of  conventional  people.  In  those  days 
white  socks  and  unlaced  shoes  were  unfashionable, 
and  his  clothes,  besides  being  horribly  shabby, 
were  thoroughly  original — concertina  trousers,  and 
a  queer  arrangement  of  collar  and  tie,  the  latter 
looking  like  nothing  on  earth  so  much  as  a  dirty 
white   sock   crumpled  round   a   frayed  old  collar. 

The  next  arrival  was  Mr.  Odell,  whose  costume 
was  entirely  out  of  keeping  with  the  season  and 
occasion.  He  wore  a  great  coat  of  strong,  bright 
green  colour,  with  many  lapels  like  a  watchman  of 
olden  times  ;  in  fact  he  informed  me  that  on  his 
way  to  Paddington  the  street  urchins  had  run  after 
him,  calling  out  :  ''  Spring,  spring,  gentle  spring." 
He  was  followed  by  a  gentleman  in  a  tall  hat, 
short  jacket  and  bright  yellow  boots.  This  was 
a  surprise  for  me,  but  Britten  assured  me  that  though 
Mr.  Fletcher  was  a  commercial  traveller  he  was  also 
keenly  interested  in  art,  and,  as  I  was  shortly  to 
learn,  his  inclusion  in  the  party  had  a  practical 
bearing. 

When  we  were  face  to  face  with  the  ticket  office 
I  saw  no  sign  that  any  member  of  the  party  had 
provided  himself  with  the  necessary  funds  for  the 
railway  fare.  I  consulted  Britten  on  this  point, 
and  he  swiftly  informed  me  that  Mr.  Fletcher  had 
anticipated  this  difficulty  and  had  insisted  upon 
contributing  five  pounds  towards  the  day's  expenses. 

Among  the  next  arrivals  was  Bernard  Evans, 
a  brother-artist  of  very  great  distinction  but  equally 
remarkable  appearance  ;  his  disregard  of  convention 
was  almost  wilful,  his  costume  consisting  of  a  great 


62         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

sombrero  with  crown  and  brim  of  ample  proportions, 
linen  reminiscent  of  the  Friday  before,  and  his 
shirt  fastened  at  the  neck  by  a  white  brooch  with 
a  brass  rim  to  it.  No  collar  was  necessary,  as  his 
hair  and  beard  festooned  his  shoulders  and  chest. 
Although  it  was  summer  time  he  wore  an  overcoat, 
which  was  wise  after  all,  seeing  that  he  dispensed 
with  any  jacket  underneath  it. 

No  sooner  had  the  railway  tickets  been  purchased 
out  of  Mr.  Fletcher's  fiver  than  the  entire  party 
made  a  bee-line  for  the  Refreshment  Room : 
admittance  to  which  in  those  glorious  old  days 
you  were  entitled  upon  production  of  your  railway 
ticket.  Rum  and  milk,  with  cigars  all  round, 
seemed  the  order  of  the  day,  which,  having  started 
so  well,  appeared  likely  to  finish  where  it  had  begun, 
and  I  had  great  difficulty  in  getting  them  away 
from  the  bar.  As  it  was  they  missed  the  first  train, 
but  "  there  was  no  hurry,  any  old  train  would  do," 
and  having  caught  the  next  train  we  arrived  at 
Reading,  where  we  made  our  way  to  the  nearest 
hostelry  to  charter  a  conveyance  to  Wyfold  Court. 

Britten  enquired  from  the  landlord  whether 
Mr.  Hermon  Hodge  had  sent  a  carriage.  "  Dog-cart 
met  the  last  train,  sir."  "  Dog-cart  be  damned," 
said  Britten,  "  we  want  a  coach."  Eventually 
a  great,  old-fashioned  barouche  on  C-springs,  with 
a  pair  of  horses,  was  drawn  up  at  the  door,  and 
at  last  the  party  were  detached  from  the  bar  and 
bundled  in,  some  inside,  others  on  the  box,  and  away 
we  went. 

After  a  few  miles,  our  Jehu  was  ordered  to  break 
the   journey   at   a  rather   attractive   wayside  inn, 


THE  RAID  ON  READING  63 

"The  Bird  in  Hand."  This  proved  so  pleasant 
a  place  that  our  progress  was  considerably  delayed, 
and  I  was  obliged  to  protest  that  our  party  was 
getting  rather  rosy  in  character,  and  that  we  should 
never  be  in  time  for  lunch  at  Wyfold  Court.  In  they 
all  bundled  again,  and  we  arrived  at  length  at  our 
destination,  an  imposing  place  like  a  miniature 
House  of  Commons. 

The  footman  at  the  door  informed  us  :  "  Family 
are  just  finishing  lunch,  sir,"  and  our  party  was 
shown  into  a  spacious  cloak-room,  where  some  of 
them  proceeded  to  be  funny  with  fishing-rods 
in  the  wash-hand  basins  ;  so  Britten  and  I  left 
them  to  make  the  best  of  their  way  to  the  dining- 
room  as  soon  as  they  were  ready.  As  we  wandered 
down  the  great  corridor  I  saw  the  panels  decorated  by 
my  friend  Britten,  and  they  certainly  were  most 
impressive,  both  in  line,  conception  and  arrangement. 

Arriving  at  the  dining-room  we  were  ushered,  to 
my  dismay,  into  as  smart  a  house-party  as  I  ever 
saw  assembled  round  a  table.  Our  host  rose 
immediately,  and  greeted  Britten  most  cordially, 
saying  he  was  sorry  he  could  not  delay  lunch  for  us. 
In  a  short  time  we  were  made  quite  at  home  and 
started  our  meal  with  no  thought  of  those  rascals 
we  had  left  behind,  skylarking,  in  the  cloak-room. 

We  had  nearly  finished  our  lunch  when  the  great 
door  slowly  opened,  and  in  came  Bernard  Evans, 
just  a  httle  dazed  with  the  fight  of  the  huge  window. 
He  presented  an  appearance  very  similar  to  the 
man  who  plays  an  unimportant  instrument  in  an 
itinerant  band,  and  can  easily  be  spared  to  do 
duty  as  the  collector. 


64         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

He  wandered  in  aimlessly,  utterly  out  of  the 
picture,  and  the  only  person  not  struck  dumb  by 
the  apparition  was  Britten,  who,  engrossed  in 
animated  conversation  with  his  neighbour,  had  to 
have  his  attention  drawn  to  the  fact  that  his  host 
was  gazing  in  utter  astonishment  at  the  advent 
of  so  strange  a  figure.  Britten  hurriedly  said : 
"  Oh,  this  is  a  friend  of  mine,  Mr.  Bernard  Evans — 
Mr.  Hermon  Hodge." 

A  chair  was  found  for  the  new  arrival,  and  we 
had  barely  settled  down  after  the  obvious  shock 
to  the  nerves  of  our  host,  when  once  more  the  door 
was  opened,  and  in  hurried  the  commercial  gent, 
all  smiles,  full  of  assurance,  and  rubbing  his  hands. 
He  was  duly  presented  to  our  host,  who  was  redden- 
ing a  little  and  pulling  at  his  moustache  in  evident 
bewilderment  and  wonder  at  the  queer  assortment 
of  uninvited  people,  for  whom  room  had  to  be  found 
at  an  already  crowded  table.  And  so  they  continued 
to  wander  in,  singly,  until  it  was  obvious  that  the 
only  emotion  filhng  the  mind  of  our  host  was 
anxiety  as  to  whether  the  procession  would  ever 
cease. 

The  end  came  with  the  entrance  of  Mr.  Odell. 
No  furtive  opening  of  the  door  this  time.  It  was 
a  case  of  both  gates  flung  wide,  and  in  he  sailed, 
black  sombrero  at  a  jaunty  angle,  green  coat  with 
cape  lapels  and  all. 

I  feared  Mr.  Hermon  Hodge  would  have  a  fit. 
He  rose  from  his  seat  in  unfeigned  astonishment, 
never  having  seen  the  hke  of  this  on  any  stage, 
but  Britten  in  the  most  casual  way  said  :  "Oh, 
this  is  Mr.  Odell,"  and  such  a  sensation  was  caused 


THE  RAID  ON  READING  65 

by  his  entrance  that  no  difficulty  was  experienced 
in  finding  him  a  seat,  for  most  of  the  men  guests 
had  risen  as  the  "  King  "  came  in.  The  King  of 
Bohemia,  but  still  the  "  King  " — a  seedy  sombrero 
for  a  crown,  and  the  ragged  cloak  of  a  night  watch- 
man in  place  of  ermine  and  crimson  ;  but  it  was 
for  all  to  see  that,  however  disguised,  the  star  turn 
had  arrived. 

Mr.  Hermon  Hodge  made  it  his  special  care  that 
Mr.  Odell  should  be  served  with  lunch,  but  though 
pressed  to  partake  of  a  variety  of  cold  dishes, 
Odell  refused  them  all,  and  said  :  "I  should  prefer 
some  soup."  At  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon  this 
had  to  be  specially  prepared,  and  delayed  luncheon 
almost  into  tea-time. 

When  we  were  told  that  tea  was  served  in  the 
drawing-room  Mr.  Odell  averred  that  "  he  was  an 
old  man,  and  preferred  whisky  and  water,  and  a 
cigar,"  after  which  he  fell  into  a  deep  sleep. 

The  rest  of  us  had  rather  a  jumpy  time  with  the 
ladies  in  the  drawing-room,  where  I  remember  the 
conversation,  oddly  enough,  drifted  into  a  discussion 
between  our  hostess  and  Mr.  Bernard  Evans  as  to 
the  different  qualities  of  various  washing  soaps. 
He  cited  Mrs.  Evans  as  an  authority  in  support  of 
Brown  Windsor,  and  this  saved  him,  as  appearances 
were  decidedly  against  his  personal  acquaintance 
with  any  variety  of  that  commodity. 

Our  host  now  suggested  a  walk  through  the 
park  with  a  view  to  inspecting  his  racing  stud. 
The  male  members  of  the  house-party  were  evidently 
sporting  and  did  not  betray  the  slightest  interest  in 
the  conversational  powers  exercised  by  the  Savages. 


66         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

During  our  walk  our  host  escorted  Mr.  Odell,  and 
being  curious  to  catch  what  on  earth  they  could 
find  in  common,  I  kept  close  behind  them  and 
overheard  Mr.  Hermon  Hodge  say  to  his  companion, 
as  he  stretched  out  his  arm  drawing  attention  to 
the  magnificent  trees  adorning  his  Park,  "  What 
do  you  think  of  my  timber,  Mr.  Odell  ?  " 

With  a  glance  of  ineffable  disdain,  Odell  merely 
ejaculated,  "  Ha'penny  bundles,"  after  which  con- 
versation flagged  until  we  arrived  at  the  training 
stables.  Here  I  confess  the  Savages  did  not  shine, 
and  expressed  their  disappointment  that  where  so 
much  completion  reigned  there  was  no  refreshment 
room. 

The  inspection  of  the  racing  stables  might  have 
passed  off  more  pleasantly  had  it  not  been  for  the 
unrehearsed  action  of  one  of  our  party  who  took 
it  upon  himself  at  the  precise  moment  when  the 
pick  of  the  stable  was  being  paraded  for  our  benefit 
to  "  rattle  "  his  hat.  This  produced  an  instantaneous 
and  alarming  effect.  The  thoroughbreds,  entirely 
unaccustomed  to  this  novel  method  of  appealing 
to  their  sensibilities,  danced  and  tore  at  their  leads 
as  though  a  salvo  of  musketry  had  been  discharged 
in  their  vicinity. 

The  culprit,  on  being  severely  admonished  by 
the  trainer,  protested  that  this  method  of  forcing 
the  paces  of  horses  on  exhibition  was  quite  usual 
at  any  horse  show  he  had  ever  attended — from 
Smithfield  Market  to  Barnet  Fair. 

Upon  our  return  to  the  house  I  called  Britten 
aside  and  pointed  out  that  though  Mr.  Hermon 
Hodge  had  behaved  beautifully  it  would  not  be 


THE  RAID  ON  READING  67 

wise  to  delay  our  departure,  and  that  if  we  ordered 
our  barouche  at  once  there  would  still  be  plenty 
of  time  to  dine  at  Reading,  and  then  return  to 
London.  I  was  horrified  to  hear  that  our  party 
had  no  intention  of  doing  anything  of  the  sort  : 
*'  We  are  staying  on  to  dinner ;  you  can  do  as  you 
like,"  said  Britten. 

I  said  :  "  Do  you  realize  that  all  these  people 
will  disappear  to  their  respective  rooms  very  shortly, 
and  re-assemble  in  the  drawing-room  before  dinner, 
all  smart  and  trim  in  beautiful  clothes  ?  You 
and  I  are  in  light  tweeds ;  Mr.  Fletcher  wears 
canary  coloured  shoes  ;  the  rest  are  in  rags.  Two 
of  the  party  cannot  appear  without  their  overcoats, 
and  Odell  insists  on  retaining  his  wideawake  on 
all  occasions,  at  table  and  elsewhere  ?  " 

My  arguments  were  of  no  avail,  and  accordingly 
we  stayed  on,  without,  so  far  as  I  could  find,  any 
expressed  wish  having  proceeded  from  our  host. 
Our  party  processed  to  the  cloak-room  before  dinner, 
and  resumed  the  antics  they  had  performed  before 
lunch.  They  polished  their  faces  till  they  shone, 
combed  and  brushed  their  hair,  and  appeared 
entirely  pleased  with  the  effect  produced,  but  as 
we  entered  the  drawing-room,  where  we  found  the 
ladies  arrayed  flower-hke  and  elegant,  the  men  of 
course  in  faultless  evening  dress,  we  must  have 
looked  a  weird  bunch. 

During  dinner  three  or  four  of  our  party  distin- 
guished themselves,  setting  the  whole  table  in 
roars  of  laughter,  and  fairly  overcame  any  prejudice 
which  may  have  been  created  by  the  execrable 
manner  in  which  all  the  canons  of  civihzed  society 


68         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

had  been  violated.  In  fact,  the  evening  was  a  huge 
success,  daintiest  fare  and  wine  of  the  best,  and  just 
at  the  moment  when  the  feast  was  at  its  height  our 
host  rose,  and  in  most  graceful  terms  spoke  of  the 
kind  way  in  which  we  had  come  down  and  taken 
pot-luck  ;  he  was  only  sorry  that  such  a  pleasant 
day  had  come  to  an  end — the  carriage  was  now  at 
the  door.  It  would  convey  us  to  Reading  just  in 
time  to  catch  the  last  train  to  town. 

Mr.  Odell,  as  the  senior  member  of  our  party, 
replied,  *'  that  so  far  as  he  was  concerned  there  was 
no  hurry,  as  he  had  nothing  to  do  to-morrow." 

This  fell  on  the  assembly  like  a  bolt  from  the  blue, 
and  for  a  moment  threatened  to  destroy  the 
atmosphere  of  harmony  and  mutual  good  feeling 
engendered  by  the  kindly-humoured  attitude  taken 
up  by  Mr.  Hermon  Hodge  after  what  must  have  been 
rather  a  trying  day.  But  a  gallant  Guardsman 
stepped  boldly  into  the  breach  :  "  You  boys  can 
do  me  a  great  service  by  giving  me  a  lift  into  Reading 
to-night  to  catch  the  train  to  town.  I  have  important 
business  there  to-morrow,  but  I  hated  to  bother  my 
brother  to  disturb  his  stable  on  a  Sunday  night, 
just  to  oblige  me.  So  if  you  don't  mind  I'll  pack 
my  few  things  and  be  with  you  in  a  moment." 

There  was  no  resisting  this,  so  away  we  went, 
singing  and  shouting  aU  the  way  to  Reading.  As 
we  passed  the  half-way  house  there  were  loud  calls 
for  "  The  Bird  in  Hand,"  but  the  Guardsman, 
who  was  on  the  box,  was  adamant ;  insisting  that 
he  would  not  allow  the  party  to  soil  the  George 
Goulet  provided  by  his  brother  with  the  common 
or  garden  stuff  they  were  likely  to  find  at  a  wayside 


THE  RAID  ON  READING  69 

inn.  At  Reading  we  were  only  just  in  the  nick  of 
time  to  be  bundled  into  the  last  train  for  London. 

A  few  days  afterwards  I  saw  Mr.  Odell  in  the 
Savage  Club,  and  asked  him  what  he  really  thought 
of  our  expedition  :  "  The  greatest  outrage  ever 
perpetrated,"  he  replied. 

We  had  by  no  means  finished  with  our  commercial 
gent.  He  haunted  the  "  Savage,"  obviously  finding 
it  much  more  amusing  than  the  company  of  the 
Giants  of  Commerce  to  whom  he  had  hitherto  been 
accustomed.  He  was  so  delighted  with  the  interest- 
ing folk  at  the  Club  that  he  one  day  ventured  to 
mention  to  Mr.  Odell  that  he  would  hke  to  become 
a  member,  but  he  was  promptly  informed  that  it 
was  strictly  confined  to  the  professions,  "  You're 
in  trade,  ain't  you  ?  "  said  Odell. 

It  was  about  this  time  that  Mr.  Odell  invited 
Mr.  Fletcher  to  dine  with  him.  He  conducted  him 
into  the  Strand  with  an  air  of  great  mystery,  and 
entered  a  tiny  shop  where  succulent  dainties  were 
frizzHng  and  hissing  on  trays  behind  a  misty  window. 
Up  they  mounted  a  narrow,  rickety  stairway,  and 
when  seated  at  a  small  round  table,  with  much 
ceremony  Mr.  Odell  ordered  "  sausages  and  mashed." 
On  these  being  produced  by  the  proprietor  and  his 
boy,  Mr.  Fletcher  was  presented  :  "  This  is  Harris, 
the  Sausage  King,  and  his  son,  the  Sausage  Prince  of 
Wales,"  said  Odell. 


CHAPTER  V 

CHURCH  AND  CHAPEL  IN  YORKSHIRE  IN  1882.  MY 
EARLY  ATTEMPTS  TO  BE  AN  ARTIST.  A  PROPHET  IN 
HIS  OWN  COUNTRY.    THE  MARSHALLS.    I  GO  TO  LONDON 

EAST  AYTON  in  1882  was  a  tiny  village 
— a  chapel  and  a  church  of  course,  and  a 
few  farms  whose  owners  also  dealt  in 
horses  and  did  exceedingly  well.  The 
Rector  lived  some  miles  away.  His  living  included 
several  scattered  churches  which  he  supplied  by 
hiring  an  energetic  curate  who  rode  a  wonderful 
pony  from  one  parish  to  another,  and  took  the 
entire  service  at  each,  while  the  Rector  remained  at 
home  and  was  rarely  seen.  Small  wonder  that  the 
various  dissenting  bodies  obtained  such  a  hold  on 
the  countryside  in  Yorkshire  and  adjoining  counties. 
It  may  surprise  some  of  my  Bohemian  friends 
to  hear  of  the  extremely  Philistine  surroundings 
in  which  I  spent  my  early  life  ;  and  yet  even  of 
these  methodistical  days  there  remains  a  strange 
smack  of  the  odd  and  queer  in  my  recollection. 

At  Stanningly,  a  manufacturing  village  where  my 
father  had  a  house  during  my  early  childhood, 
there  were  two  churches,  both  good  livings.  The 
one  nearest  to  us  was  remarkable  in  that  though 
it  was  in  the  heart  of  the  thickest  population,  it 

70 


CHURCH  AND  CHAPEL  71 

was  entirely  destitute  of  any  congregation.  There 
was  just  the  parson,  organist,  choir  and  pew-opener, 
and  this  condition  of  things  had  existed  for  years. 
Adjoining  the  church  was  a  popular  tavern  where 
the  local  worthies  assembled  each  Saturday  night  and 
discussed  the  affairs  of  State,  both  lay  and  clerical. 
It  occurred  to  a  spokesman  at  one  of  these  gatherings 
to  refer  to  the  lamentable  condition  of  things  pre- 
vailing at  the  adjoining  church,  and  before  closing 
time  it  was  arranged  that  each  member  of  that  little 
coterie  who  failed  in  attendance  at  the  next  and 
following  services  each  Sunday  should  be  fined  a 
round  of  drinks. 

The  queer  campaign  was  carried  out  right  royally, 
and  the  little  band  from  the  bar  parlour  became 
regular  attendants  at  church.  One  of  its  members 
was  elected  senior  Churchwarden,  and  not  only 
carried  round  the  collection  plate  but  conferred 
with  the  Vicar  on  minor  parochial  matters.  The 
Vicar  was  pleased,  the  publican  was  pleased,  the 
brand-new  congregation  including  their  families 
were  all  on  the  most  cordial  footing,  when,  alas  ! 
how  easily  things  go  wrong. 

At  a  meeting  of  the  Churchwardens  a  member 
proposed  that,  seeing  everything  was  now  so 
friendly,  he  should  be  empowered  to  approach  the 
Vicar  with  a  suggestion  that  his  surplice  might  with 
advantage  be  sent  to  the  laundry  a  little  more 
regularly.  This  was  put  to  the  meeting  and  carried. 
The  Vicar  replied  "  that  he  had  conducted  his 
services  before  they  came  without  interference, 
and  that  if  his  new  congregation  wanted  a  whiter 
surphce  they  were  free  to  wander  till  they  could 


72         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

find  one."  On  the  following  Sunday  the  bell  tolled, 
the  organ  pealed  and  the  parson  preached,  but  the 
solitary  member  of  the  congregation  was  the  pew- 
opener. 

At  the  other  church,  which  ranked  as  the  Rectory, 
the  Incumbent  was  also  the  Squire  and  was  most 
popular  with  his  flock.  Still,  the  main  body  of  the 
population  were  Methodists,  and  professed  to  be 
mightily  shocked  at  the  goings-on  of  the  sporting 
Rector,  who  was  fond  of  a  hound  and  a  horse,  and 
certainly  had  the  Psalmist's  eye  for  a  comely 
wench. 

There  was  precious  little  romance  attached  to 
the  religious  leaders  of  the  Methodist  Chapel.  As 
I  remember  them,  the  ministers  were  brawny, 
leather-lunged,  Bible-thumping  men  of  God.  As 
we  had  no  resident  minister  we  were  supplied  from 
what  was  known  as  **  The  Circuit,"  and  my  father's 
house,  in  common  with  perhaps  three  others  in  the 
village,  was  called  upon  to  entertain  the  preacher 
for  the  day.  The  Sunday  evening  meal  always  took 
the  form  of  a  cold  collation,  as  the  service  might 
be  protracted  indefinitely  by  the  struggle  to  bring 
some  poor,  weeping  penitent  to  a  sense  of  his  own 
salvation. 

There  was  a  lonely,  wooden  form  at  the  foot  of 
the  chapel  pulpit,  and  any  member  of  the  con- 
gregation who,  aroused  by  the  passionate  appeal 
of  the  preacher,  betrayed  emotion,  was  immediately 
seized  by  some  elder  of  the  Church  and  led  thither 
in  full  view  of  the  assembly,  who  by  this  time  were 
ejaculating  a  cross-fire  of  **  Glory  !  "  "  Hallelujah  !  " 
"  Come  down,  O  Lord  !  "  "  Save  him  !  "    When  at 


EARLY  ATTEMPTS  TO  BE  AN  ARTIST    73 

last  the  poor  penitent,  thoroughly  frightened, 
caved  in  through  pure  exhaustion,  it  was  reckoned 
as  a  soul  saved,  and  a  brand  plucked  from  the 
burning. 

They  had  one  or  two  shots  at  me,  young  as  I  was, 
but  I  could  only  see  the  intense  vulgarity  of  the 
proceeding,  although  I  was  quite  willing  and 
anxious  to  escape  the  prospect  of  hell-fire.  The 
man  in  the  pulpit  on  one  occasion  placed  his  finger 
for  an  instant  in  the  gas-jet  by  his  side  to  illustrate 
in  a  tiny  degree  the  awful  agony  from  which  the 
only  escape  was  salvation  '*  here  and  now,  this  very 
night."  I  was  so  overcome  with  apprehension 
that  sleep  was  denied  me  lest  I  woke  up  in  hell ; 
and  for  years  I  suffered  from  insomnia  for  no  other 
reason  than  that  they  persuaded  me  that  having 
been  born  in  sin  there  was  nothing  for  me  but  the 
"  outer  darkness  and  gnashing  of  teeth  "  for  ever 
and  ever. 

Very  few  fathers  regard  with  anything  short  of 
disapproval  the  artistic  profession  as  a  means  of 
livelihood  for  their  sons.  All  very  well  as  a  hobby, 
they  say,  but  most  precarious  as  a  calHng  ;  and  I 
must  confess  that  looking  back  I  find  very  few  of 
my  school-mates  made  good.  A  considerable 
number  became  art  masters,  and  essayed  to  teach 
others  a  trade  at  which  they  themselves  had  been 
defeated. 

In  the  olden  days  a  promising  boy  was  taken 
as  an  apprentice,  and  taught  his  work  just  as  at  any 
other  craft,  and  became  thoroughly  master  of  his 
materials  before  starting  out  on  his  own.  Nowadays, 
very  few  painters  possess  any   knowledge  of  the 


74         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

composition  of  the  various  pigments  necessary  to 
the  production  of  a  picture.  The  modern  school 
of  art  is  a  sorry  substitute  for  the  old  work-shop, 
where,  by  assisting  a  great  artist  in  the  production 
of  a  masterpiece,  you  became  thoroughly  conversant 
with  every  detail  connected  with  the  process  : 
by  preparing  and  undertaking  mechanical  operations 
of  which  there  is  much  to  be  done  before  any  great 
work  is  completed. 

"  But  surely  you  will  admit  I  am  very  industrious," 
was  my  retort  to  the  objection  urged  by  my  father 
against  the  adoption  of  painting  as  my  profession. 
His  reply  to  this  was — "  that  it  was  quite  possible 
to  be  very  industrious  sifting  cinders." 

This,  however  severe,  was  strictly  true.  He  tried 
me  for  one  week  in  his  office  while  his  chief  clerk 
was  away  on  holiday.  I  fancy  he  was  far  from 
satisfied  with  the  experiment,  as  it  was  never 
repeated. 

I  was  then  offered  a  post  as  draughtsman  in  a 
lace  warehouse  in  Nottingham  ;  a  sister  of  the  senior 
partner  had  taken  an  interest  in  my  work  at  the 
local  school  of  art.  My  first  morning  there  is 
graven  on  my  memory.  I  was  received  by  the  senior 
partner  and  conducted  to  a  small,  private  cubicle 
contained  in  a  large  work-room  where  a  number  of 
girls  were  engaged  sorting  lace.  I  was  shown  a 
large  design  for  a  lace  curtain,  and  it  was  suggested 
that  I  should  proceed  to  correct  its  many  faults, 
and  complete  it  ready  for  the  factory.  I  was 
supplied  with  all  the  necessary  materials,  and 
finally  left  alone  with  this  paraphernaha,  but  in 
absolute  bewilderment  as  to  how  to  set  about  it — 


EARLY  ATTEMPTS  TO  BE  AN  ARTIST     75 

being  quite  destitute  of  any  trace  of  practical 
knowledge  of  the  subject.  I  had  never  even  seen 
a  lace-making  machine. 

In  deep  despair,  I  also  became  covered  with  con- 
fusion when  I  discovered  that  the  walls  of  my 
cubicle  were  only  observation-proof  about  waist- 
high — above  that  they  were  made  of  glass — and 
that  the  girls  engaged  in  the  warehouse,  with  which 
I  was  environed,  were  standing  on  their  tip-toes, 
their  noses  flattened  against  the  glass,  taking  the 
greatest  deUght  in  gazing  on  the  misery  and  con- 
fusion of  the  new  boy. 

DeHverance  came  with  the  hour  for  the  midday 
break  for  lunch,  and  as  the  girls  trooped  out  and 
deserted  the  warehouse,  I  escaped  also,  never  to 
return.  None  of  my  family  knew  that  for  one 
brief  morning  I  had  held  an  important  post  in  the 
principal  lace  warehouse  in  Nottingham.  Explana- 
tions seemed  to  me  out  of  the  question,  so  I  simply 
kept  on  saying  nothing. 

Next,  I  received  an  offer  from  a  dealer  in  pictures 
who  proposed  that  I  should  assist  him  in  the 
restoration  of  old  masters,  at  which  he  was  certainly 
very  clever,  though  where  any  repainting  was 
required  his  knowledge  was  a  little  at  fault.  I  was 
to  have  the  use  of  an  excellent  attic  with  a  top  light, 
and  all  my  firing  free,  in  return  for  touching  up 
hands,  faces  and  draperies  in  damaged  old  portraits. 

During  this  period,  a  young  Retford  solicitor  who 
collected  old  pictures,  furniture,  etc.,  called  at  the 
shop.  He  appeared  to  be  impressed  by  a  little 
picture  I  was  painting,  and  proposed  that  I  should 
come  to  Retford  and  paint  his  portrait  in  the  costume 


76         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

of  the  period  of  Charles  I.  Accordingly,  I  proceeded 
to  Retford  one  Saturday  afternoon,  where  I  was  to 
stay  until  the  following  Monday.  I  enquired  for 
Mr.  Marshall,  the  solicitor,  and  a  man  at  the  station 
informed  me  that  as  he  was  passing  close  to  the 
house,  he  would  be  glad  to  show  me  the  way.  I 
found  the  house  quite  a  large  place,  at  the  end  of 
a  long  drive. 

Mr.  Marshall  was  out,  but  I  was  shown  into  the 
morning-room.  Then  a  stout,  middle-aged  lady 
appeared,  who  asked  me  whether  I  had  an  appoint- 
ment with  Mr.  Marshall,  to  which  I  rather  shyly 
replied,  "  Certainly,"  being  slightly  perturbed  by 
the  coolness  of  my  reception.  Eventually,  Mr. 
Marshall  appeared,  but  he  was  a  gentleman  whom 
I  had  never  seen  before.  I  was  to  learn  afterwards 
that  Mrs.  Marshall  suffered  from  a  constant  fear 
of  burglars,  and  felt  convinced  that  I  was  one  of 
a  gang  sent  in  front  to  spy  out  the  land,  and  that 
my  small  Gladstone  bag  contained  the  implements 
of  my  nefarious  office. 

Mr.  Marshall  relieved  my  embarrassment  by 
laughing  heartily,  and  turning  to  his  wife,  said, 
"  Why,  of  course,  Mr.  Ward  has  come  to  the  wrong 
house.  My  brother,  Charles,  told  me  he  was  expect- 
ing a  young  artist  to  stay  with  him  this  evening." 

I  was  driven  down  to  his  brother's  house,  where  my 
host  was  waiting  dinner,  somewhat  at  a  loss  to 
account  for  my  late  arrival. 

I  painted  the  portrait,  for  which  I  received  the 
fee  of  £5.  The  sittings  took  place  usually  before 
breakfast,  and  during  the  daytime  I  occupied  myself 
in  painting  in  the  accessories,  and  usually  spent  the 


A  PROPHET  IN   HIS  OWN  COUNTRY    77 

evening  in  drawing  and  painting,  often  using  his  valet, 
dressed  up  in  various  costumes,  as  model.  After 
finishing  the  portrait  I  took  a  large  room  in  the  town 
as  studio,  and  painted  all  sorts  of  pictures  :  figure 
subjects,  landscapes,  portraits  and  a  drop  scene 
foT  the  local  theatre,  and  was  kept  quite  busy  during 
two  years.  But  pleasant  as  the  fife  was  I  felt  the 
need  of  more  study,  and  at  the  age  of  nineteen  I 
packed  my  box  and  took  train  for  London. 

I  had  been  told  that  Chelsea  was  a  good  place  for 
arfists,  and  arriving  at  King's  Cross,  I  chartered  a 
four-wheeler  and,  failing  to  find  a  lodging  at  an 
address  which  had  been  given  me  in  Sydney  Street, 
I  went  on  to  36  Grove  Place.  The  landlady  said 
she  had  a  small  room  at  the  top  of  the  house  at 
seven  shillings  and  sixpence  a  week,  but  that  it  could 
not  be  got  ready  that  evening.  I  insisted  upon 
staying,  and  my  box  having  been  bundled  in,  I 
went  out  for  a  walk,  saying  I  would  return  at  bed- 
time. There  I  stayed  with  Mrs.  Styles,  my  landlady, 
and  was  eventually  married  from  the  house.  Mrs. 
Styles  always  waited  up  for  me  however  late  I  was, 
and  often,  I  remember,  kept  supper  hot,  which  fre- 
quently took  the  form  of  bullock's  heart,  a  favourite 
dish  of  hers,  which  I  have  never  tasted  since. 

After  my  marriage  I  returned  to  Yorkshire,  the 
land  of  my  birth,  but  much  as  I  love  the  shire  of 
broad  acres,  I  must  confess  it  contains  a  practical 
people  who,  although  they  love  music,  are  not  very 
advanced  in  their  appreciation  of  pictorial  art. 

A  prophet  is  not  without  honour  save  in  his  own 
country,  and  in  his  own  house.  The  young  tenor 
who  sang  in  the  choir  at  the  local  Methodist  Chapel 


78         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

started  in  quite  a  humble  way,  his  father  being  the 
local  stone-mason.  But  he  developed  into  qui:e 
a  remarkable  singer,  migrated  to  Bradford  and  then:e 
to  London,  where  he  performed  at  the  best  conceits 
with  all  the  famous  singers  of  the  day.  His  nane. 
Nelson  Varley,  was  quite  prominent  for  some  years. 

Being  desirous  of  demonstrating  to  the  inhabitants 
of  his  native  village  the  progress  he  had  made  in 
his  profession,  he  gave  a  concert  in  the  old  Chapel, 
where  a  few  years  before  he  had  sung  in  the  choir. 
He  engaged  some  of  the  best  artistes  of  that  day  : 
Madame  Patey,  Lemmens  Sherrington  and  Signor 
Foh,  and  hoped,  not  only  to  gratify  his  native 
vanity,  but  also  to  make  a  little  money  by  the 
sale  of  the  tickets.  But  alas  !  the  natives  took 
umbrage  at  what  they  considered  the  uppishness 
of  the  stone-mason's  son,  and  the  concert  was 
severely  boycotted.  His  stars  had  to  sing  to 
practically  an  empty  hall,  to  the  severe  mortification 
and  financial  loss  of  Nelson  Varley,  who,  I  beheve, 
refused  ever  again  to  enter  his  native  village. 

I  was  to  know,  later,  that  any  attempt  to  obtain 
public  portraits  in  one's  native  place  was  absolutely 
futile.  On  one  occasion  in  my  early  days,  I  sent 
a  small  picture  to  be  exhibited  at  the  Bradford 
Society  of  Artists.  A  dealer  from  there  whose 
name  I  did  not  know,  wrote  saying  that  if  I  cared 
to  accept  the  enclosed  five  pound  note,  he  would 
buy  the  picture.  I  replied  that  the  price  of  the 
picture  was  more  than  double  that  sum,  and  asked 
if  he  felt  disposed  to  increase  his  offer.  He  answered 
that  he  did  not  care  a  damn  whether  he  had  the 
picture  or  not,  and  that  I  could  return  his  fiver 


I  GO  TO  LONDON  79 

as  soon  as  possible.  Having  already  spent  a  portion 
of  it,  I  was  not  in  a  position  to  sue  for  a  better 
bargain. 

It  was  obvious  that  whatever  promise  I  might 
show  as  a  painter,  as  a  man  of  business  I  was  sadly 
lacking.  At  the  age  of  sixteen  I  painted  a  picture 
of  still-life,  and  won  a  Oueen's  Prize  in  the  National 
Competition  at  South  Kensington.  This  was  after- 
wards displayed  for  sale  in  the  window  of  a  picture 
dealer  in  Nottingham,  price  (^\2.  A  possible  pur- 
chaser asked  me  if  that  was  the  lowest  price  I 
would  take.  I  said,  "  No,"  upon  which  he  offered 
me  £7,  which  I  promptly  accepted. 


CHAPTER  VI 

MR.AND  MRS.BOYES.  SIR  HENRY  LUCY.  THE  PORTRAIT 
THAT  STOOD  ON  ITS  HEAD.  MR.  MEAKIN'S  PICTURE. 
THE  PORTRAIT  WHICH  WAS  REFUSED.  **  SPY." 
I  RETURN  TO  RETFORD.      GEORGE  MARSHALL 

IT  is  true  that  trivial  incidents  are  frequently 
more  effective  in  directing  one's  way  in  the  world 
than  any  careful  plan  of  action.  It  was  so  in  my 
case.  Coming  to  London  as  a  raw  youth  from 
Yorkshire  I  was  without  friends,  with  the  exception 
of  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Fred  Boyes,  whom  I  had  met  a  fev/ 
times  during  my  stay  in  Retford.  Requiring  the 
signature  of  a  householder  to  various  documents 
to  procure  my  admission  as  a  student  to  the  British 
Museum,  National  Gallery,  etc.,  I  called  upon 
Mr.  and  Mrs.  Boyes,  who  not  only  did  all  they  could 
in  this  direction,  but  also  were  exceedingly  kind  to 
me  in  every  way. 

Mr.  Boyes  was  a  journalist  of  some  note  on  the  staff 
of  the  "  World,"  a  powerful  paper  in  those  days 
under  Edmund  Yates,  who  was  in  his  prime,  and 
was  a  forceful  character  who  made  himself  felt. 
Mr.  Boyes  lived  in  a  charming  house  in  Gloucester 
Crescent,  Regent's  Park  ;  they  entertained  quite 
a  lot,  and  it  was  there  I  met  everybody  worth 
knowing  in  art,  literature,  the  drama  and  politics. 

80 


SIR  HENRY  LUCY  8i 

It  occurred  to  me  that  if  I  could  paint  a  successful 
portrait  of  Mr.  Boyes,  it  could  not  fail  to  attract 
notice. 

I  painted  the  picture,  a  curious  feature  of  the 
performance  being,  that  while  Mr.  Boyes  was  one 
of  the  biggest  men  I  have  ever  seen,  the  picture, 
a  three-quarter  length,  only  measured  about  seven 
inches  by  thirteen.  It  was  the  first  of  a  long  series 
of  small  portraits  I  was  to  do  later,  and  was 
certainy  rather  a  novelty  in  those  days.  (A  revival, 
really,  of  a  fashion  in  vogue  about  the  Holbein 
period.) 

I  asked  Mrs.  Boyes  to  accept  this  little  portrait 
of  her  husband  as  a  Christmas  card,  and  I  am  bound 
to  say  that  it  was  not  difficult  to  see  that  neither 
she  nor  Mr.  Boyes  were  unduly  elated  over  it. 
They  seemed  to  think  that  the  mouth  of  the  gift 
horse  was  out  of  gear,  and  that  he  looked  too  rosy. 
In  fact,  they  said  the  portrait  had  dined  and  wined 
too  well ;  but  when  it  was  exhibited  at  the  old 
Grosvenor  Gallery,  Sir  Coutts  Lindsay  gave  it  a 
place  of  honour. 

Sir  Henry  Lucy  (then  Mr.  Lucy),  being  rather 
struck  by  the  style  of  this  picture,  consulted  Alma 
Tadema,  who  was  quite  enthusiastic,  and  in  the  end 
I  was  commissioned  to  paint  Mr.  and  Mrs.  Lucy, 
followed  by  a  gallery  of  the  famous  people  with 
whom  Mr.  Lucy  was  so  closely  associated  during 
his  long  and  distinguished  career  as  chief  of  the 
Parliamentary  Press  Gallery,  "  Toby,  M.P."  for 
"  Punch,"  editor  of  the  "  Daily  News  "  and  con- 
tributor to  various  provincial  papers.  He  also 
entertained  at  his  famous  lunch  parties  everybody 


82         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

of  note,  from  the  Prime  Minister  down  to  an  unknown 
painter  like  myself. 

Previous  to  this  period  I  had  only  painted 
occasional  portraits,  and  only  one  subscription 
portrait.  This  was  a  picture  of  Mr.  Scott,  the 
Chairman  of  the  National  Provident  Institution. 
He  was  a  splendid  specimen  of  the  old  city  merchant. 

I  have  reason  to  remember  the  day  upon  which 
the  picture  was  presented.  The  Board  of  Directors 
invited  me  to  the  luncheon  which  preceded  the 
ceremony.  I  had  previously  given  my  instructions 
to  my  frame-maker,  who  was  accustomed  to  these 
functions.  I  was  particularly  anxious  that  until  the 
official  unveiling  had  actually  taken  place  the  green 
baize  should  not  be  removed  from  the  face  of  the 
picture.  A  pulley  and  strings  were  attached,  so 
that  at  the  precise  moment,  on  the  uplifting  of  my 
finger,  the  frame-maker's  assistant,  who  held  the 
cord  in  his  hand,  could  pull  it  and  release  the  curtain. 
All  this  had  been  rehearsed  in  the  studio  before  we 
started,  as  I  did  not  expect  to  have  an  opportunity 
of  giving  it  my  attention  during  the  luncheon. 

After  the  lunch,  the  staff  and  subscribers  assembled 
in  the  Board  Room  where  the  picture  was  hung 
high  above  the  mantlepiece,  covered  with  its  green 
cloth,  and  my  faithful  assistant  on  guard,  all  attention, 
waiting  for  my  signal.  Sir  Thomas  Chambers,  then 
Recorder  of  the  City  of  London,  made  the  speech 
of  presentation  in  a  most  eloquent  and  impressive 
manner,  ending  with,  "  and  now,  Mr.  Scott,  I  have 
great  pride  and  pleasure  in  asking  you  to  accept 
this  portrait,  painted  by  that  well-known  artist, 
Mr.  Edwin  A.  Ward." 


MR.  MEAKIN'S  PICTURE  83 

In  a  silence  which  could  be  felt  I  gave  the  signal 
to  my  assistant,  who  jerked  off  the  curtain  and 
displayed  the  picture  of  a  dignified  old  gentleman 
of  seventy-seven  years  standing  on  his  head  with  his 
legs  in  the  air.  My  men  had  not  only  been  successful 
in  preserving  the  picture  from  prying  eyes,  but 
had  failed  to  see  for  themselves  that  it  was  upside 
down.  Instead  of  the  murmurs  of  applause  I  had 
expected,  the  entire  assembly  rocked  with  laughter, 
and  there  the  picture  remained  until  the  room  could 
be  cleared  for  the  carpenter  and  his  step-ladder. 

A  committee  of  working  people  commissioned 
me  to  paint  a  posthumous  portrait  of  their  late 
employer,  Mr.  James  Meakin,  of  Hanley,  Staffs. 
I  was  furnished  with  all  the  necessary  photographs, 
etc.,  the  picture  was  completed  and  forwarded  to 
its  destination,  and  shortly  afterwards  I  received 
an  invitation  from  the  Committee  to  attend  the 
presentation  at  the  Town  Hall,  Hanley.  Accordingly 
I  went,  and  found  the  town  en  fete.  Received  by 
the  Chairman  of  the  Committee,  decorated  by  a 
large  rosette  of  office,  I  was  conducted  to  the  gallery 
of  the  great  hall  and  handed  a  programme  printed 
in  letters  of  gold.  The  vast  hall  was  packed  with 
an  audience  of  two  thousand  people.  In  front  of 
the  great  organ  was  arranged  my  portrait  of  the  late 
Mr.  Meakin,  suitably  draped,  under  a  special  lighting 
installation. 

After  a  recital  on  the  organ,  several  of  the  great 
folk  made  speeches  varying  in  quality  and  quantity, 
but  what  filled  my  young  mind  with  foreboding 
were   two   items   on   the   gilt   programme :     "  Mr. 


84         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

pays   a   compliment   to   the   artist."      "  The 

artist  responds."  I  had  never  made  a  speech  in  my 
Hfe,  but  managed  to  say  the  few  words  that  were 
necessary  when  my  turn  came  immediately  following 
the  unveiling,  which  was  accompanied  by  an  appro- 
priate fantasia  on  the  great  organ,  and  gratifying 
thunders  of  applause  from  the  vast  audience. 

After  the  ceremony,  the  Chairman  of  the 
Committee  called  me  aside,  and  rather  apologetically 
remarked  that  the  question  of  my  expenses  for  the 
day  had  been  considered,  and  that  he  proposed  to 
hand  me  the  sum  of  three  guineas.  I  thanked  him 
for  the  kind  thought,  but  hoped  that  he  and  his 
Committee  would  retain  the  sum  for  the  purpose 
of  drinking  my  health.  At  this  he  seemed  much 
relieved,  and  proceeded  to  act  on  my  suggestion 
with  so  much  success  that  later  on  he  begged  to 
inform  me  that  they  were  much  disappointed  in 
my  appearance.  I  told  him  I  was  sorry,  but  what 
did  they  take  exception  to  ?  **  Well,"  said  the 
Chairman,  ''  we  expected  you  to  'ave  more  of  an 
'aggard  look,  with  long  black  'air,  and  a  big  black 
moustache." 

My  next  commission  from  a  pubHc  body  was  to 
paint  Mr.  Warner,  the  Chairman  of  the  United 
Kingdom  Temperance  and  General  Provident 
Institution.  He  was  a  gentleman  of  over  eighty 
years  of  age,  and  resided  at  Chelmsford.  He  was 
a  bell-founder  by  trade,  and  actually  founded 
Big  Ben.  He  informed  me  that  there  was  some 
slight  flaw,  either  in  its  casting  or  composition,  but 
when  the  bell  was  tested  it  was  discovered  that  this 


THE  PORTRAIT  WHICH  WAS  REFUSED    85 

accidental  defect  was  responsible  for  much  of  the 
pecuhar  charm  and  resonance  of  its  chime. 

Although  Mr.  Warner  was  a  rich  man  with  many 
interests,  he  did  not  appear  to  me  to  be  a  happy 
man.  He  described  to  me  how  at  one  time  he  felt 
it  a  pubhc  duty  to  make  some  provision  for  indigent 
domestic  servants  who  were  out  of  health.  He 
possessed  a  property  at  Walton-on-the-Naze,  and 
there  built  a  Sanatorium  or  Convalescent  Home 
devoted  to  this  purpose.  After  some  considerable 
time  he  was  memorialized  by  the  members  of  the 
Corporation  of  Walton-on-the-Naze  imploring  him 
to  remove  his  Sanatorium.  The  maid-servants  sent 
down  to  convalesce  became  so  vigorous  and 
playful  that  they  were  undermining  the  morals 
of  most  of  the  young  men  in  the  neighbourhood. 

Mr.  Warner  was  also  a  famous  grower  of  orchids, 
and  a  special  bloom,  "  Cattleya  Warneri,"  called 
after  him,  is  famous  to  this  day.  On  one  occasion 
he  travelled  aU  the  way  to  St.  Petersburg  with  a 
specimen  of  his  orchid  to  present  to  the  Czar.  He 
told  me  that  during  the  journey,  the  flower,  packed 
in  a  little  case  padded  with  cotton  wool,  never 
left  his  hand. 

Mr.  Warner  did  not  attempt  to  conceal  his  disUke 
of  the  portrait  business,  and  when  it  was  completed, 
as  it  was  on  the  very  morning  of  the  day  on  which 
it  had  to  be  presented  at  the  annual  meeting  of  his 
Company  at  the  Cannon  Street  Hotel,  he  took  one 
swift  look  at  the  finished  picture  and  promptly 
advised  me  for  the  sake  of  my  artistic  reputation 
to  miss  the  train. 

I  had  travelled  down  to  Chelmsford  early  that 

G 


86         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

morning  to  put  the  last  finishing  touches  to  the 
picture,  and  we  had  to  catch  a  train  back  to  town 
quite  early  in  the  afternoon.  I  reminded  him  that 
I  was  under  a  contract  to  deliver  the  goods,  and  that 
I  was  to  receive  my  fee  at  the  same  time. 

Mr.  Warner  was  not  in  the  least  mollified,  and 
when  his  brougham  drew  up  to  take  him  to  Chelms- 
ford station,  about  a  mile  away,  he  offered  me  a 
seat  in  the  carriage,  but  absolutely  declined  to  allow 
me  to  take  the  canvas  on  the  roof.  There  was  no 
time  to  lose,  so  I  hailed  a  passing  greengrocer's 
cart,  and  climbed  in  beside  the  cabbages,  portrait 
and  all. 

I  had  arranged  for  my  frame-maker  to  meet  me 
at  the  Cannon  Street  Hotel.  We  hung  the  picture 
in  its  place,  and  took  our  positions  for  the  business 
of  the  afternoon,  which  was  presided  over  by  the 
late  W.  S.  Caine,  m.p.,  also  a  prominent  teetotaller. 
During  his  speech  he  described  how  Mr.  Warner, 
fifty  years  before,  had  founded  the  U.K.T.G.P.L 
for  the  insurance  of  lives  of  total  abstainers,  as 
previous  to  that  time  no  Life  Office  would  undertake 
the  risk  for  men  who  denied  themselves  the  solace 
of  alcohoUc  refreshment.  It  was  to  mark  their 
appreciation  of  Mr.  Warner's  great  services  as  a 
public  benefactor  that  they  had  chosen  this,  the  year 
of  his  Jubilee  as  Chairman  of  this  noble  institution, 
to  ask  him  to  accept  his  portrait  painted  by  Mr. 
Edwin  Ward. 

AU  this  speechifying  took  place,  I  may  say,  at  a 
high  tea,  and  certainly  there  were  present  nearly 
a  thousand  members  of  the  U.K.T.G.P.L  Tea, 
I  take  it,  is  a  chatty  beverage  ;    give  me  a  bottle 


THE  PORTRAIT  WHICH  WAS  REFUSED    87 

of  the  "  boy  "  every  time  /  am  called  upon  for  a 
speech.  Mr.  Warner,  unmoved  by  all  this  tea  and 
talk,  calmly  rose  in  his  place  and  prefaced  his 
remarks  by  saying  that  he  never  wanted  a  portrait, 
he  disUked  it  now  it  was  painted,  and  what  was  more, 
he  absolutely  declined  to  receive  it. 

Later,  it  was  discovered,  that  though  he  did  not 
really  require  more  money  (he  was  reputed  to  be 
worth  a  quarter  of  a  million),  he  had  hoped  to  receive 
a  cheque  for  £5000,  instead  of  a  picture.  It  was 
pointed  out  to  him  that  the  Board  had  no  legal 
power  to  apportion  any  sum  from  the  funds  of  the 
Corporation  for  a  purpose  of  that  kind,  and  that  the 
picture  had  been  subscribed  for  privately  by  the 
Directors  themselves,  and  that  if  Mr.  Warner  would 
not  accept  the  portrait  they  would  place  it  in  the 
Board  Room.    It  hangs  there  to  this  day. 

While  I  was  painting  this  picture  I  stayed 
occasionally  at  a  little  country  inn  close  to 
Mr.  Warner's  house.  There  was  no  accom- 
modation for  people  requiring  much  attention, 
so  I  took  my  simple  supper  in  the  kitchen,  and 
afterwards,  with  a  bowl  of  hot  water  and  soap 
between  us,  the  homely,  kind  old  landlady  and 
myself  washed  my  brushes  and  chatted  away  about 
many  things.  She  asked  me  if  I  was  married,  and 
how  many  children  I  had,  etc.,  then  she  confessed 
that  she  had  had  twenty  children.  Upon  my 
expressing  considerable  surprise  at  this,  she  replied, 
"  Well,  sir,  you  can't  help  these  things  ;  there  was 
a  girl  in  our  village  who  always  said,  *  You  are  bound 
to  have  your  number.'  She's  had  six,  but  then, 
she  war'n't  married." 


88  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

My  studio  in  Bloomfield  Place  was  approached 
by  a  passage  and  the  studio  immediately  opposite 
was  occupied  by  Leslie  Ward  (afterwards  Sir  Leslie 
Ward),  the  famous  caricaturist,  "  Spy,"  of  "  Vanity 
Fair."  Much  confusion  and  many  curious  mistakes 
arose  from  the  fact  that  two  artists  of  the  same 
name  lived  opposite  each  other. 

One  evening,  I  was  deeply  engrossed  striving  to 
complete  a  portrait  while  dayhght  lasted,  when 
there  came  a  loud  knock  on  the  door  below.  I  did 
not  expect  any  caller  at  that  hour  and  hoped  that 
if  I  ignored  the  summons  he  would  conclude  I  had 
already  departed  for  the  night.  But  the  knock 
was  repeated  in  so  importunate  a  manner  that  I  had 
to  ask  my  sitter  to  excuse  me  while  I  went  down  to 
the  door. 

In  the  half  light  I  saw  an  officious  looking 
individual  who  drew  from  his  pocket  a  formidable 
looking  document,  which  filled  me  with  foreboding, 
and  asked  if  Mr.  Ward  was  in.  Pointing  to  the  door 
opposite,  I  said,  "  Mr.  Ward  Hves  there." 

It  is  Mr.  Edwin  Ward  I  require,"  he  said. 
Well,  sir,  and  what  do  you  want  ?  "  I  impatiently 
demanded. 

"  I  am  the  Mayor  of  Cardiff,  and  I  wish  to  have 
my  portrait  painted." 

"  Please  come  in  !  " 

From  time  to  time  I  revisited  Retford,  where  I 
painted  various  local  celebrities  and  made  many 
friends.  The  young  squire  was  to  be  presented 
with  his  portrait  on  the  occasion  of  his  marriage. 
When  the  project  was  under  consideration  several 


'       I  RETURN  TO  RETFORD  89 

of  the  subscribers  had  other  views  with  regard  to 
the  form  the  presentation  should  take,  but  the 
Mayor  Mr.Bescoby,  addressing  the  meeting,  reminded 
them  that  on  the  young  man's  coming  of  age  they 
had  presented  him  with  a  case  of  guns — "  a  most 
dangerous  present.    Now  a  portrait  can  do  no  harm." 

Another  presentation  portrait,  that  of  George 
Marshall,  who  was  five  times  Mayor  of  the  Borough 
of  East  Retford,  was  to  be  the  last  commission  I  was 
to  execute  in  the  place  where  I  had  experienced 
many  happy  times,  and  the  recollection  of  it  is 
still  very  fragrant  in  my  memory.  The  picture  was 
a  full-length  in  Court  dress,  with  the  Mayoral 
chain  of  office.  Mr.  Marshall,  who  was  a  remarkably 
handsome,  well-built  man,  stood  in  front  of  a  gilded 
table  upon  which  were  arranged  the  cups  and  plate 
belonging  to  the  ancient  Borough  of  East  Retford. 

There  was  a  great  function  in  the  Town  Hall  for 
the  presentation.  Sir  Frederick  Milner,  Bart., 
who  was  the  Member  of  Parliament  for  the  Borough, 
made  the  presentation,  and  made  a  most  moving 
speech  in  which  he  paid  a  great  tribute  to  the 
services  rendered  to  the  Borough  by  George 
Marshall ;  his  father  before  him  had  been  Town 
Clerk,  and  other  members  of  the  family  had  been 
well-known  doctors  and  members  of  the  Church. 
There  was  an  air  of  great  distinction  about  the  whole 
function. 

George  Marshall,  himself,  was  the  senior  partner 
in  the  firm  of  lawyers  founded  by  his  father.  His 
clients  included  the  Duke  of  Newcastle,  Earl 
Manvers  and  other  great  folk  who  owned  the  land 
in  the  district   known  as  "  the  Dukeries."     George 


go         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Marshall  lived  in  a  large,  comfortable  house  known 
as  Mount  Vernon.  After  his  daughter  married 
and  his  son  went  away  this  house  became  too  large 
for  his  requirements,  and  he  determined  to  dispose 
of  the  property. 

His  advertisement  was  answered  by  Mr.  Whitaker 
Wright.  Mr.  Marshall  suggested  that  Mr.  Wright 
would  get  a  better  idea  of  the  property  if  he  spent 
a  week-end  at  Mount  Vernon.  Mr.  Wright  came, 
and  was  so  pleased  with  the  place  that  he  decided 
to  buy  it. 

As  Mr.  Wright  was  signing  his  cheque,  he  remarked, 
**  You  have  been  most  hospitable  and  kind  during 
these  few  days,  I  should  like  to  show  my  appreciation 
by  doing  you  a  solid  service  which  happens  to  be 
within  my  power.  Now,  here  is  a  cheque  in  payment 
for  your  property,  but  if  you  care  to  entrust  the 
money  to  me  for  investment  in  *  London  Globes,' 
this  cheque  will  double  itself  inside  six  months." 

The  temptation  proved  too  strong  for  Marshall, 
and  it  must  be  remembered  that  about  that  period 
Mr.  Whitaker  Wright  was  a  power  in  the  land  with 
that  great  and  distinguished  Englishman,  the 
Marquis  of  Dufferin,  on  his  Board  of  Directors. 

For  a  short  time  all  went  well,  and  the  shares 
increased  in  value.  But  alas  !  the  tide  turned  with 
such  violence  that  fresh  money  had  to  be  found  to 
meet  the  depreciation,  and  as  it  afterwards  appeared, 
Marshall  was  tempted  to  use  moneys  entrusted  to 
him  by  clients  which  under  no  circumstances  should 
have  been  invested  in  anything  speculative. 

That  he  was  fully  alive  to  this  was  forcibly 
demonstrated  during  the  time  I  was  painting  his 


GEORGE  MARSHALL  91 

portrait.  My  father  had  died  some  six  months 
previously,  and  Mr.  Marshall,  as  he  was  entitled, 
being  an  old  friend,  questioned  me  as  to  how  my 
father's  estate  had  been  administered.  I  informed 
him  that  I  was  co-trustee  with  my  brother-in-law 
and  that  the  money  was  invested  in  the  Cotton 
Combine  of  which  my  brother-in-law  was  one  of 
the  managers — a  perfectly  sound  business  of  which 
he  had  inside  knowledge,  and  which  was  paying 
7  per  cent. 

Mr.  Marshall  evinced  much  alarm  on  my  behalf, 
telling  me  that  the  arrangement  was  an  infringe- 
ment of  the  law  and  that  should  any  loss  be  incurred 
I  should  be  responsible  for  the  whole  amount.  He 
further  insisted  upon  my  going  off  to  Nottingham 
and  instructing  my  lawyer  to  transfer  the  entire  sum 
into  Government  stock — in  fact  Mr.  Marshall  refused 
to  continue  the  sittings  for  his  picture  until  his 
advice  had  been  acted  upon.  Yet,  strange  as  it  may 
seem,  he  was  misusing  trust  money  at  this  very  time 
to  bolster  up  his  losses  in  "  London  Globes." 

Such  was  the  confidence  people  reposed  in  their 
family  soHcitors  in  those  days  that  money  was  handed 
into  their  care  without  question  or  stipulation, 
and  was  paid  into  the  lawyer's  own  account  at  the 
bank  and  invested  at  his  discretion,  the  interest 
being  paid  to  the  cHent  in  due  course.  The  difficulty 
of  realizing  could  easily  be  urged  should  a  chent 
require  his  capital  in  a  hurry. 

In  the  case  of  George  Marshall,  however,  it  was 
obvious  that  his  Stock  Exchange  speculations  were 
endangering  his  relationship  with  his  clients.  As 
it  may  be  remembered,  for  it  excited  considerable 


92  RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

attention  at  the  time,  Mr.  Marshall  journeyed  to 
London  to  purchase  a  property  for  the  Duke  of 
Newcastle,  and  as  was  the  custom  then  (and  may  be 
still  for  all  I  know),  he  had,  so  he  said,  provided 
himself  with  the  necessary  £16,000  in  notes  which 
he  carried  in  his  despatch  case.  He  stayed,  as  usual, 
at  the  Hotel  Metropole,  and  on  the  day  after  his 
arrival  the  evening  papers  were  full  of  the  story  of 
a  sensational  robbery.  Mr.  Marshall  alleged  that 
during  a  short  absence  from  his  apartment  the  lock 
had  been  forced  from  his  despatch  case,  and  the 
£16,000  stolen. 

No  trace  of  the  alleged  thieves  could  be  found,  and 
I  was  afterwards  assured  by  the  counsel  he  employed 
that  the  Duke  of  Newcastle  was  quite  prepared  to 
accept  the  story,  and  expressed  sympathy  with  his 
solicitor  in  his  embarrassing  misfortune.  I  was  also 
assured  that  having  survived  the  danger  of  discredit 
of  the  Metropole  affair,  Marshall  might  have 
succeeded  in  placating  his  other  claimants  for 
settlement  by  the  exercise  of  a  little  discretion,  skill 
and  patience.  But,  losing  his  head,  Marshall 
promptly  sought  to  protect  himeslf  against  his 
importunate  creditors,  who  had  taken  fright  after 
the  story  of  the  Metropole  theft,  by  filing  his 
petition  in  bankruptcy,  and  then  his  real  troubles 
began. 

The  Official  Receiver  is  a  very  tolerant  being, 
I  am  informed,  but  he  cannot  be  induced  to  afford 
protection  while  there  exists  the  shghtest  shadow 
of  fraud,  and  Marshall,  usually  a  man  of  excellent 
and  sound  judgment,  failed  entirely  to  prove  the 
possession  of  the  £16,000  in  his  despatch  case,  of 


GEORGE  MARSHALL  93 

which    he    alleged    he    had    been   robbed    at    the 
Metropole. 

After  his  examination  by  the  Official  Receiver 
he  was  arrested  on  charges  of  fraud,  and  of  the 
misuse  of  trust  money.  On  oath,  he  persisted  in 
adherence  to  the  story  of  the  robbery,  which  was 
entirely  uncorroborated  by  any  evidence  save  that 
of  his  wife. 

But  what  a  punishment  ! 

He  had  to  be  charged,  first  of  all,  before  the 
Bench  of  Magistrates  of  which  for  five  years  he  had 
been  Chairman,  and  the  Town  Clerk  who  had  to 
read  out  the  charge  was  his  own  nephew.  After 
his  committal  he  was  incarcerated  in  the  police 
station  in  the  town  of  his  birth. 

A  mutual  friend,  who  was  a  County  Magistrate, 
and  had  entertained  and  been  entertained  by 
Marshall  on  countless  occasions,  told  me  that  it 
fell  to  him  to  visit  Marshall  in  gaol,  and  certify 
as  to  the  safe  custody  of  the  prisoner.  He  provided 
himself  with  a  small  hand-bag  in  which  he  deposited 
a  bottle  of  champagne  and  a  couple  of  glasses. 
(George  Marshall  was  a  great  judge  of  good  wine 
and  had  possessed  a  famous  cellar.) 

In  the  ordinary  way,  the  Chief  Constable  would 
have  accompanied  the  Magistrate  and  remained 
in  the  cell  during  his  interview  with  the  prisoner, 
but  my  friend  took  him  aside  and  asked  that  as  a 
special  favour,  under  the  peculiar  circumstances, 
he  might  be  allowed  a  quarter  of  an  hour  alone  with 
Marshall. 

Entering  the  cell  where  Marshall  was  confined 
my  friend  said,   "  Wc  will  not  discuss  this  awful 


94         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

business.  Nothing  can  be  gained  by  that ;  but 
for  the  sake  of  old  times  I  must  take  wine  with  you, 
perhaps  for  the  last  time."  He  there  and  then 
opened  the  bottle,  filled  the  glasses,  and  they  drank 
to  the  good  old  times  they  had  had  together,  and 
eventually  parted  without  any  reference  to  the 
hideous  situation  with  which  poor  old  Marshall 
was  face  to  face. 

He  was  tried,  found  guilty  and  sentenced  to  five 
years  penal  servitude.  I  learnt  that  so  far  as  possible 
his  time  was  spent  in  the  prison  infirmary,  and  he 
there  experienced  some  shght  relaxation  of  prison 
discipline. 

In  conversation  with  a  fellow  prisoner  occupying 
the  next  bed  he  learnt  that  within  the  following 
fortnight  his  companion  was  to  be  released.  This 
man  volunteered  to  convey  to  anybody  outside 
any  message  Marshall  might  desire.  Thereupon 
Marshall  confided  to  him  that  the  only  atom  of 
comfort  remaining  to  him  was  the  fact  that  some 
years  previous  to  his  downfall  he  had  made  provision 
for  his  wife,  and  that  she  was  waiting  for  his  release 
with  a  little  home,  where  he  could  hide  his  dishonoured 
head  for  the  few  remaining  years  left  to  him  on 
this  earth  ;  adding  that  he  would  be  glad  if  his 
companion  could  find  time  to  call  at  the  address 
given,  and  say  that  on  such  a  date  he  would  be  at 
liberty  once  more,  and  was  looking  forward  with 
impatient  longing  to  being  once  again  a  free  man 
with  a  wife  to  watch  over  him. 

What  message  this  scoundrel  delivered  we  shall 
never  know,  but  it  is  certain  that  he  induced 
Marshall's  wife  to  go  with  him  to  America,  where 


GEORGE  MARSHALL  95 

she  died  in  deep  poverty,  having  been  defrauded 
of  her  httle  income  by  the  ex-convict.  Poor  Marshall 
was  restored  to  hberty  to  find  no  wife,  and  no  home 
awaiting  him.  An  old  friend  in  his  own  profession 
provided  for  his  immediate  needs,  which  he  required 
for  only  a  brief  period ;  for  while  I  was  trying 
to  trace  him  I  heard  that  he  had  died. 


CHAPTER  VII 

CHELSEA 

CHELSEA  has  possessed  a  fascination  all 
its  own  since  the  days  when  it  was  known 
as  "  A  Village  of  Palaces." 

Turner  lived  here  and  Dante  Rossetti. 
Whistler  perhaps,  more  than  any  artist  identified 
himself  with  the  beauty  and  poetry  of  its  tidal  river, 
and  has  placed  it  on  record  for  all  time  in  his 
exquisite  etchings  and  matchless  pictorial  render- 
ings of  its  bridges  and  barges  all  along  the  region 
bounded  by  Battersea  Reach. 

Chelsea  has  always  been  the  chosen  habitat  of 
famous  folk  with  a  following  in  art  and  letters  : 
Carlyle  with  his  hero  worshippers,  George  Eliot 
and  her  friends,  Whistler  and  his  disciples — and 
now  Augustus  John  carries  on  the  cult  with  his 
crowd  of  adoring  satellites. 

The  house  in  which  I  lived  for  ten  years  in  Upper 
Cheyne  Row  had  been  the  home  of  Leigh  Hunt, 
who  was  so  unkindly  satirized  by  Charles  Dickens 
as  Harold  Skimpole  in  "  Bleak  House."  Next  door 
lived  the  widow  of  Godwin,  the  famous  architect, 
who  subsequently  became  Mrs.  Whistler.  On  the 
other  side  my  neighbour  was  W.  E.  F.  Britten,  an 
artist  of  rare  genius,  never  appreciated  as  his  brilliant 

96 


CHELSEA  97 

gifts  deserved.  In  the  house  opposite  was  WilHam 
de  Morgan,  who,  after  devoting  a  long  life  to  the 
production  of  artistic  pottery,  blossomed  forth 
in  his  old  age  as  a  famous  novelist.  Round  the 
corner  was  the  house  in  which  Carlyle  had  laboured 
for  so  many  years,  and  T.  P.  O'Connor  lived  in  the 
same  street. 

Everybody  was  neighbourly  and  friendly  as  in  a 
country  village.  The  "  Magpie  and  Stump  "  facing 
the  river  boasted  a  famous  old  skittle  alley,  and  an 
alfresco  entertainment  was  staged  in  the  garden 
at  the  back,  most  of  the  talent  being  local,  of  the 
coster  type — the  real  thing.  Long  before  the  days 
of  the  Chelsea  Arts  Club,  we  all  met  at  the  "  Six 
Bells  "  in  the  King's  Road,  where  on  summer  nights 
we  played  bowls  on  the  lovely  old  green  with  the 
local  tradesmen  in  their  shirt-sleeves  and  tall  hats. 
Later  on  a  member  of  the  Walter  family  of  "  The 
Times  "  became  landlord  of  the  "  Six  Bells,"  with 
dear  old  "Duggie"  as  his  manager,  and  made  it 
his  town  house  and  entertained  us  at  great  supper 
parties  after  closing  hours.  The  walls  of  these 
licensed  premises  were  covered  with  pictures 
accepted  from  artists  in  lieu  of  payment  for  liquid 
refreshment.  This  added  materially  to  the 
popularity  of  the  house  and  estabUshed  it  as  a 
veritable  '*  home  from  home." 

A  few  daring  young  Chelsea  spirits  conceived 
the  idea  that  it  would  be  possible  to  extract  a  little 
entertainment  by  the  practice  of  calling  upon  people 
of  interest,  dispensing  with  the  formality  of  any 
previous  appointment  or  introduction,  and  surprising 


98         RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

them  by  this  method  into  the  trap  of  disclosing 
their  real  views  upon  any  topic  which  might  be 
raised  at  these  unconventional  interviews. 

Rudolph  Blind,  a  painter  of  some  note  in  those 
days  and  a  past-master  in  all  the  subtle  arts  known 
as  "  bluff,"  was  the  ringleader,  and  other  bright 
spirits  were  enrolled  whose  unruffled  readiness  of 
wit  could  be  reUed  upon.  I  was  roped  in  as  possess- 
ing a  simple  and  boyish  exterior,  likely  to  disarm 
suspicion.  Chelsea  bristled  with  celebrities,  and 
our  plan  of  action  was  to  hunt  in  pairs,  one  to 
select  the  quarry  and  gain  admittance,  his  partner 
to  open  the  attack  and  develop  the  situation. 

Of  course  we  had  our  failures.  A  well-known 
Dissenting  Minister  was  so  difficult  to  draw  that  after 
listening  in  solemn  silence  to  our  dissertation  on 
some  nebulous  topic,  he  closed  the  interview  by 
saying  :  "  Now  we  will  have  a  word  of  prayer." 
And  down  we  all  had  to  kneel  while  he  poured  out 
a  voluble,  lengthy  supplication  for  the  salvation 
of  our  immortal  souls. 

Smarting  under  this  reverse,  we  next  tried  our 
luck  with  a  famous  cleric  of  the  Established  Church 
— the  Rev.  H.  R.  Haweis,  who  officiated  at  a  well- 
known  west-end  church  and  also  prided  himself 
upon  his  claim  to  authorship  by  his  book  entitled 
"  Music  and  Morals." 

He  had  recently  taken  up  his  residence  in  the 
great  house  in  which  Rossetti  lived  and  died  in 
Cheyne  Walk.  The  many  picturesque  features  of 
this  beautiful  old  house  had  been  swept  away  by 
the  re-decorations  and  alterations  to  suit  the  modern- 
ity of  the  new  tenant.    This  vandalism  roused  the 


D.wvN.      Oi.i)  C  inisKA  CiifK(in  AKii 


CHELSEA  99 

ire  of  the  members  of  the  Calling  Club,  and  two 
of  us  sallied  forth  to  make  our  protest. 

The  reverend  gentleman  kept  us  waiting  an 
unconscionably  long  time  and  I  fear  that  my  opening 
speech  fell  a  trifle  flat  ;  in  fact,  the  cleric  exhibited 
considerable  resentment  at  our  criticism  of  his 
scheme  of  decoration  and  regarded  our  visit  in  the 
light  of  an  intrusion.  My  closing  remarks  in  reply 
were  cut  short  by  the  sudden  summons  of  his  servant 
— to  show  us  out.  He  was  a  queer,  Quilp-like  little 
man,  ferocious  of  face,  and  I  was  not  sorry  to  escape 
before  he  became  violent. 

Perhaps  I  may  relate  one  episode  in  which  I 
ventured  to  experiment  as  **  instigator."  Two  of 
us  passing  along  a  street  in  the  small  hours  had  our 
curiosity  aroused  by  a  brand  new  brass  plate  adorn- 
ing a  house  illuminated  with  a  brilliant  light  over 
the  hall  door,  suggesting  that  the  inmates  were  still 
out  of  bed.  PuUing  the  "  night  "  bell,  we  were 
admitted  by  the  medico  robed  in  a  dressing-gown. 
He  ushered  us  into  his  surgery,  obviously  alert 
with  the  expectancy  of  being  called  to  a  new  patient. 

I  let  myself  go  in  a  long  congratulatory  address 
of  welcome  to  the  "Village  of  Palaces"  from  the 
members  of  "  The  Calling  Club,"  coupled  with  a 
cordial  invitation  to  the  newcomer  to  add  his  name 
to  its  roll  of  membership. 

He  appeared  somewhat  distrait  and  apologized 
for  his  apparent  lack  of  hospitality,  at  the  same 
time  begging  to  be  excused,  volunteering  the 
interesting  information  that  his  presence  was 
urgently  required  upstairs — an  addition  to  his 
family  being  momentarily  expected. 


100       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

We  were  shown  out. 

We  had  better  luck  in  our  call  upon  Oscar  Wilde, 
who  had  recently  married  and  was  installed  in  a 
brand  new  house  in  Tite  Street.  My  partner  was 
deeply  concerned  by  the  ostracism  of  the  member 
of  Parliament  for  Chelsea,  Sir  Charles  Dilke,  who  had 
involved  himself  by  a  departure  from  the  rectihnear 
in  an  affair  of  the  affections,  and  had  not  been  very 
successful  in  clearing  himself.  Britten,  who  was  my 
partner  in  the  call,  wanted  Wilde's  opinion  on  the 
injustice  meted  out  to  Dilke. 

Wilde  said,  "  My  dear  Britten,  people  are  so 
foolish  in  always  denying  the  truth  of  these  charges. 
I  want  to  see  the  man  who  will  face  the  judge  in  the 
Divorce  Court  and  not  only  confess,  but  express  his 
complete  satisfaction  with  the  experiment.  As  for 
the  British  public,  they  are  always  liable  to  stand 
on  their  hind  legs  and  bray  aloud  that  they  are  a 
moral  people. 

"  Regarding  poor  Dilke,  monstrous  as  it  may 
appear,  you  can  take  it  from  me  that  not  only  will 
he  be  hounded  from  society,  but  he  will  be  cut  by 
every  lady  in  London  and  also  by  most  of  the  men." 

"  The  Calling  Club  "  ceased  to  exist.  But  in 
spite  of  its  many  disappointments,  I  maintain  that 
it  contained  the  germ  of  the  cult  of  "  The  Inter- 
view "  which  at  that  time  was  in  its  infancy, 
but  was  soon  to  blossom  forth  into  world-wide 
adoption  and  is  the  principal  feature  of  modern-day 
journalism. 

The  manifold  attractions  of  the  Savage  Club  in 
the  good  old  days  not  infrequently  kept  one  out 


CHELSEA  lOT 

of  one's  bed  until  a  very  late  hour.  I  had  impressed 
upon  my  wife  the  folly  of  waiting  up  for  my  return 
and  a  little  supper  was  usually  left  on  a  tray  in 
the  dining-room.  One  night,  having  partaken  of 
this  slight  repast,  I  went  upstairs  and  finding  my 
wife  awake  thanked  her  for  her  kindly  thought  in 
leaving  out  Spanish  onions,  to  which  I  was  very 
partial. 

Expressing  much  surprise  she  denied  doing  any- 
thing of  the  sort. 

"  Well,"  I  replied,  *'  I  partook  of  what  you  left 
on  the  table." 

In  some  alarm  she  exclaimed  : 

"  Those  were  not  Spanish  onions,  those  were  tulip 
bulbs  !  You  don't  mean  to  say  that  you  have 
eaten  them  ?  " 

**  Indeed  I  did,  and  very  good  they  were.  They're 
not  poisonous,  are  they  ?  " 

Thoroughly  alarmed  my  wife  jumped  out  of  bed, 
threw  on  some  hasty  wraps,  and  in  spite  of  all  my 
protestations  ran  out  to  consult  the  doctor  living 
in  the  next  street.  His  advice,  given  down  the 
speaking  tube,  was  to  the  effect  that  if  she  felt 
any  doubt  an  emetic  was  an  excellent  thing,  and  if 
I  exhibited  any  alarming  symptoms  in  the  morning 
she  had  better  send  for  him. 

When  she  returned  I  had  fallen  into  a  deep  sleep, 
which  she  mistook  for  coma  due  to  the  action  of 
the  poisonous  root,  and  upon  being  shaken  back  to 
life,  I  awoke  to  the  deep  disgrace  of  having  to  explain 
that  I  had  dared  to  fall  asleep  while  my  anxious 
wife  was  out  all  alone  in  the  middle  of  the  night 
on  my  behalf. 

H 


102        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

On  another  occasion  my  simple  supper  had  been 
laid  in  the  Httle  back  room.  It  was  getting  late- 
after  nine  o'clock  on  a  summer  evening.  I  had  been 
painting  as  long  as  the  hght  lasted  and  had  hardly 
commenced  my  frugal  meal  when  the  little  maid- 
of -all-work  announced  "  a  gentleman  to  see  you, 
Sir— Mr.  Pollard." 

I  had  not  the  remotest  idea  who  Mr.  Pollard 
might  be,  but  sitting  there  at  supper  I  said,  "Perhaps, 
Mr.  Pollard,  you  won't  mind  taking  pot  luck,  and 
will  join  me  in  this  cold  collation  and  a  bottle  of 
beer." 

He  begged  to  be  excused,  and  at  my  request  that 
he  would  take  a  chair,  he  seated  himself  quite 
close  to  the  door  and  toyed  with  his  hat,  turning  it 
over  and  over,  until  in  response  to  a  question  of 
mine,  as  to  what  I  could  do  for  him,  he  volunteered 
the  information  :  "  As  a  matter  of  fact  I  am  your 
butcher.  Sir,  and  have  called  about  my  httle  account, 
which  has  gone  beyond  the  hmit  of  credit  which  my 
business  allows." 

''Well,  Mr.  Pollard,"  I  said,  "the  position  is 
this  :  the  nature  of  my  profession  makes  it  almost 
impossible  to  pay  ready  money  as  it  frequently 
happens  that  there  is  considerable  delay  in  the 
receipt  of  cheques  for  my  work.  Perhaps  you  are 
not  aware  that  my  profession  is  that  of  an  artist  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  know.    It  is  a  miserable  profession." 

"  A  miserable  profession  indeed,"  I  repeated. 
"  What  do  you  know  about  it  ?  " 

"  Well,  sir,  my  father  and  an  uncle  were  well- 
known  artists — and  I  had  to  keep  them  both." 

I  afterwards  discovered  that  this  was  quite  true. 


CHELSEA  103 

Pollard's  coaching  pictures  are  famous  to  this 
day  ;  in  fact  I  am  not  sure  that  one  of  the  Pollards 
was  not  a  member  of  the  Royal  Academy  ;  at  any 
rate,  he  was  quite  as  accompUshed  as  many  of  the 
members  of  that  august  body  were  in  those  days 

I  called  upon  my  butcher  the  following  day  to 
settle  his  little  account,  and  he  showed  me  a  case 
of  miniatures  of  his  family  dating  back  to  the  Stuarts 
and  many  engravings  of  his  father's  works  ;  but 
proud  as  he  had  every  right  to  be  of  his  lineage  he 
entertained  the  profoundest  contempt  for  the  calling 
of  an  artist  as  a  means  of  getting  a  livelihood. 

The  Manresa  Road  was  practically  all  blocks  of 
studios.  Holman  Hunt  had  the  one  above  me  and 
I  was  made  fully  aware  of  this  fact  as  my  skylight 
was  broken  more  than  once  by  the  chop  bone  flung 
from  his  window.  I  was  also  made  aware  of  what 
he  had  taken  for  lunch.  He  was  a  glorious,  great- 
hearted fellow,  and  though  he  was  far  removed 
from  the  difficulties  experienced  by  many  of  us 
and  far  too  engrossed  in  his  wonderful  work  to  join 
us  in  our  little  revels,  he  took  infinite  pains  to  help 
those  whose  work  he  appreciated  by  introducing 
them  to  his  wealthy  patrons.  It  was  here  also  that 
Sir  James  Shannon  laid  the  foundation  of  his 
distinguished  career. 

It  was  in  Stirling  Lee's  studio  in  Manresa  Road 
that  a  little  group  of  men  met  and  founded  the 
Chelsea  Arts  Club,  and  to  prop  up  its  financial 
commitments  the  first  Chelsea  Arts  Club  ball  was 
held  at  Covent  Garden.  This  incidentally  started  the 
rage  for  fancy  dress  balls  which  have  been  so  popular 


104       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

and  successful  ever  since.  The  Club  premises  were 
originally  located  in  the  King's  Road  in  the  rooms 
occupied  by  "  Jimmie  "  Christie,  a  great  bearded 
Scot  whose  beautiful  work  failed  to  bring  him  much 
pelf. 

Christie  was  a  great  personality  with  a  lofty 
disregard  for  convention.  I  remember  seeing  him 
at  Hyde  Park  Corner  on  a  spring  morning  in  the 
height  of  the  season  garbed  in  a  frock  coat,  deer- 
stalker's cap  and  a  pair  of  noisy  carpet  slippers, 
although  thoroughly  innocent  of  any  desire  to 
attract  the  public  gaze.  A  man  of  massive  physique, 
noticeable  under  any  conditions,  he  was  blissfully 
unconscious  of  the  sensation  created  by  his  curious 
costume.  Fresh  from  a  morning  dip  in  the  Serpentine, 
with  his  shaggy  mane  and  beard  still  glistening  from 
the  immersion,  he  looked  for  all  the  world  like  the 
Paisley  edition  of  Father  Neptune  minus  his  crown 
and  trident. 

W.  G.  Wills,  the  dramatist,  author  of  the  play 
"  Charles  I,"  who  lived  in  Sydney  Street  was 
perhaps  the  deepest  dyed  Bohemian  of  us  all. 
Queen  Victoria  could  hardly  be  accredited  with  any 
leanings  towards  members  of  that  tribe,  yet  she  was 
always  lenient  with  W.  G.  Wills.  It  is  recorded 
that  having  received  a  command  to  dine  at  the 
Palace  he  wrote  or  wired  his  regrets  pleading  a 
prior  engagement.  Regarding  this  unpardonable 
breach  of  all  the  canons  of  Court  etiquette,  the 
Queen  merely  remarked,  "  How  very  Irish  of  him  !  " 

Wills  was  also  devoted  to  the  art  of  painting,  and 
one  of  the  royal  Princesses  had  been  prevailed 
upon  to  give  him  sittings,  but  his  studio,  which 


CHELSEA  105 

was  also  his  living  room  and  kitchen  combined, 
was  always  in  such  a  condition  of  hopeless  untidiness 
that  she  said  that  really  the  sittings  must  be 
abandoned  as  the  sitter's  chair  was  always  littered 
with  either  dirty  crockery  or  the  gridiron  upon 
which  Wills  had  fried  his  breakfast  bloater. 

A  brother  Bohemian  named  Dunn  acted  as  his 
secretarj^  He  had  previously  been  with  Rossetti 
in  a  similar  capacity  and  was  even  more  casual  than 
his  master.  A  barrister  of  my  acquaintance,  also 
an  old  friend  and  countryman  of  Wills  and  a  great 
admirer  of  his  undoubted  genius,  calling  upon  him 
one  afternoon,  found  him  making  preparations  for 
an  engagement  that  evening  which  turned  out  to 
be  nothing  less  than  a  royal  dinner-party.  But  for 
the  life  of  him,  Wills  could  not  find  anything  for  his 
shirt  front,  and  was  making  the  best  of  some  old  dis- 
coloured bone  studs  which  had  been  unearthed  from 
somewhere.  My  friend  Woodroffe  protested  that 
he  really  could  not  possibly  appear  at  the  Palace 
arrayed  in  such  rubbish.  Wills  asked  in  innocent 
surprise,  "  Well,  what  am  I  to  do  ?  I  possess  no 
others." 

Woodroffe,  filled  with  the  desire  that  his  friend 
should  make  a  good  impression,  replied,  "As  a 
matter  of  fact  I  am  now  wearing  a  set  of  valuable 
studs  which  have  belonged  to  my  family  for 
generations ;  you  are  more  than  welcome  to  the  use 
of  them  to-night  for  this  all-important  function 
and  they  will  help  to  carry  off  any  little  shortcomings 
in  the  rest  of  your  outfit.  I  will  call  to-morrow  to 
hear  all  your  news  and  also  retrieve  my  property." 

The   following   afternoon   Woodroffe   was   enter- 


io6       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

tained  by  a  full  and  vivid  account  of  the  regal 
function  and  Wills'  complete  success  as  an  honoured 
guest.  As  he  rose  to  depart  Woodroffe  said  :  "  Oh, 
by  the  way,  Wills,  I  may  as  well  relieve  you  of  the 
responsibility  of  taking  charge  of  those  studs." 

Wills  placed  his  hand  upon  his  arm  and  whispered, 
"  Not  a  word  lest  Dunn  should  hear  us  !  As  a  matter 
of  fact  he  has  been  drinking  rather  heavily  recently, 
and  in  an  attempt  to  save  him  I  have  kept  him  very 
short  of  money.  While  I  slept  this  morning  rather 
longer  than  usual  after  my  late  night,  Dunn  abstracted 
your  studs  from  my  linen  and  has  pawned  them. 
He  is  unaware  of  the  fact  that  I  discovered  this,  and 
it  would  wound  him  terribly  if  he  suspected  that  he 
had  been  found  out.  Leave  it  to  me  and  I  will 
devise  some  scheme  whereby  we  can  arrange  for 
the  return  of  your  property." 

"  But,  my  dear  Wills!  All  you  have  to  do  is  to 
hand  me  the  pawn  ticket  and  I  will  redeem  the 
jewelry." 

"  No,  that  would  never  do.  He  is  so  sensitive 
and  full  of  fine  feelings.  He  must  never  know. 
We  must  spare  him  the  disgrace  of  this  unfortunate 
incident,  whatever  the  consequences  may  be." 

Dunn's  feelings  had  to  be  considered,  of  course, 
but  I  never  knew  if  Woodroffe's  studs  were  ever 
restored  to  him. 

Later  on  in  a  room  near  Walham  Green,  Wills 
and  Dunn  were  joined  by  another  man  of  rare 
genius,  Frederick  Sandys,  who  though  perhaps 
a  little  soured  by  disappointment,  unlike  his  two 
old  cronies,  preserved  to  the  last  a  scrupulous  regard 
for  his  personal  appearance.    Tall  and  distinguished^ 


CHELSEA  107 

he  was  always  dressed  in  well-cut  clothes,  resplendent 
in  highly  varnished  footwear,  his  shapely  hands 
and  spotless  linen  beyond  reproach.  He  was 
usually  to  be  found  towards  the  last  at  the  "  Punch 
Bowl,"  where  he  held  his  court  surrounded  by  a 
crowd  of  admirers  enthralled  by  his  stories.  Here 
he  could  sip  his  grog  in  peace  and  comfort,  the  cost 
being  defrayed  by  his  audience,  and  when  in  the 
small  hours  the  party  separated,  the  trifling  sum 
for  his  cab  fare  was  pressed  into  his  hand  without 
loss  of  dignity  to  the  lion  of  the  evening.  His  was 
a  proud  spirit  which  even  his  penniless  condition 
had  failed  entirely  to  break,  and  to  the  last  he 
produced  those  wonderful  drawings  which  had 
brought  him  enduring  fame,  but  had  failed  to  pro- 
vide a  sufficiency  of  means  to  enable  him  to  spend 
his  declining  years  in  reasonable  comfort. 

A  pathetic  picture.  Two  men  of  rare  genius 
marooned  and  forgotten  away  in  the  wilds  of  Walham 
Green — both  cultured  gentlemen,  accustomed  to 
the  best  the  world  could  offer,  ending  their  days 
uncomplainingly  amid  drab  and  sordid  surroundings, 
with  poor  old  Dunn  acting  as  factotum,  shuffling 
out  at  intervals  to  forage  for  food  and  beer  when 
funds  permitted. 

Tite  Street  is  not  a  long,  nor  is  it  an  old  street, 
but  in  its  short  life  it  has  housed  many  remarkable 
people.  It  runs  from  the  river,  crossing  the  Queen's 
Road  (now  called  Royal  Hospital  Road),  and  is 
swallowed  up  in  Tedworth  Square. 

It  contained  the  Shelley  Theatre  ;  Edwin  A.  Abbey 
lived  here  ;  John  S.  Sargent  is  still  there.  Godwin, 
the  architect,  built  for  Whistler  the  White  House 


io8       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

on  the  right  coming  from  the  river,  and  when 
Whistler  shook  the  dust  from  his  feet  and  fled  to 
Venice  to  soothe  his  bankrupt  spirit,  there  was  found 
the  next  morning  on  the  stone  panel  above  the 
entrance,  "  Except  the  Lord  build  the  house,  they 
labour  in  vain  that  build  it.  Godwin  built 
this." 

A  little  higher  up  on  the  left  is  a  small  house 
built  nearly  fifty  years  ago  for  Frank  Miles,  quite 
famous  forty  years  ago  for  his  pencil  drawings 
of  beautiful  women.  It  was  his  boast  that  he  had 
discovered  and  invented  Mrs.  Langtry.  He  certainly 
did  a  few  delightful  drawings  suggesting  the  remark- 
able beauty  of  her  face  and  graceful,  noble  carriage. 
Reproductions  of  these  drawings  filled  the  windows 
of  every  stationer's  shop  in  the  kingdom,  together 
with  similar  drawings  of  Mrs.  Wheeler  and  Mrs. 
Corn  wallis- West . 

As  an  artist,  Frank  Miles  had  his  limitations, 
but  of  their  kind  those  little  drawings  have  never 
since  been  equalled.  He  himself  was  a  kindly, 
handsome  fellow,  and  his  little  house  became  the 
haunt  of  great  folk  in  society  with  the  Prince  of 
Wales's  set  as  hall-mark.  The  Prince  himself  was 
a  frequent  visitor,  and  Miles  was  bombarded  with 
commissions  for  pencil  portraits  from  every  fashion- 
-able  beauty  of  the  day. 

He  kept  house  with  a  great  friend,  a  young  poet 
who  also  had  become  an  instantaneous  and  astound- 
ing social  success — Oscar  Wilde.  These  two — the 
painter  and  the  poet — were  seen  everywhere;  no 
fashionable  function  was  considered  complete  with- 
out them,  and  their  parties  in  Tite  Street  became 


CHELSEA  109 

the  rage.  A  demure,  dainty  little  elf  recently  arrived 
at  her  teens,  tricked  out  in  studio  finery  in  which 
she  had  been  posing  all  day  for  her  picture,  was 
always  present  at  these  parties  and  helped  to  preside 
over  the  tea-serving  business,  there  being  no  lady 
of  the  house  to  act  as  hostess.  Miles  was  willing 
enough  to  help  but  Wilde  disdained  to  put  his 
hand  to  anything  useful.  "  Service  "  he  classed 
in  the  same  category  as  games.  "  I  hate  cricket," 
he  said,  "it  is  so  ungraceful,  besides  it  isn't 
Greek." 

It  was  in  this  atmosphere  of  art,  poetry,  rank  and 
fashionable  beauty  that  the  model  Sally  graduated. 
Her  mother  could  be  found  every  day  from  nine  till 
dusk  selling  flowers  at  Victoria.  Her  "  pitch " 
for  many  years  was  at  the  corner  of  the  curb  opposite 
Overton's  fish  shop,  facing  Victoria  Station.  Mrs. 
Higgs,  though  heavily  pitted  by  small-pox,  had  a 
pleasant  face  of  the  gypsy  type,  dark,  swarthy  and 
weather-beaten.  Daddy  Higgs  conducted  his  old 
woman  to  her  place  of  business  every  morning,  and 
having  seen  her  comfortably  settled,  shuffled  off 
for  the  day,  leaving  her  with  her  great  basket  of 
flowers. 

But  fairer  than  any  flower  found  in  her  basket, 
with  a  wild  beauty  all  her  own,  was  the  sweet, 
bare-footed  child  who  trotted  by  her  side  and  made 
herself  useful  by  hawking  penny  bunches  of  violets. 
This  child  was  becoming  quite  an  asset  in  the 
business,  when  one  day  Frank  Miles,  struck  by  her 
extraordinary  beauty,  persuaded  Mrs.  Higgs  that 
Sally  could  earn  quite  a  lot  of  money  as  an  artist's 
model,  and  so  she  was  taken  straight  from  the  gutter 


no       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

and  transplanted  into  the  exotic  atmosphere  of 
the  house  in  Tite  Street. 

Born  and  bred  in  a  slum,  her  simple  mind  was  not 
in  the  least  degree  overborne  by  all  the  great  folk 
around  her.  She  was  just  happy  as  a  child  in  being 
comfortably  clad  with  no  lack  of  pleasant  food  and 
drink,  although  petted  and  spoiled  by  the  lords  and 
ladies  who  appreciated  the  wonder  of  her  great 
eyes  and  the  halo  of  gold  that  framed  her  flower- 
like face. 

Lord  Leighton  painted  a  famous  picture  of  her 
called  "  Daydreams,"  engravings  of  which  find 
a  sale  to  this  day  ;  Marcus  Stone  painted  her  in 
some  of  his  well-known  old  garden  scenes  ;  she  sat 
for  the  principal  figure  in  W.  E.  F.  Britten's 
great  picture  of  "  The  Flight  of  Helen,"  bought 
by  Mr.  Hermon  of  Wyfold  Court — in  fact  Sally  at 
that  time  was  the  most  sought-after  model  in 
London. 

The  long  and  close  friendship  between  Miles  and 
Wilde  was  broken  in  sudden  and  dramatic  fashion. 
Wilde  and  he  had  been  inseparable  for  some  years, 
and  at  the  vicarage  down  in  Nottinghamshire 
where  Canon  Miles  was  rector,  Wilde  had  been 
received  as  a  frequent  visitor,  his  charm  of  manner 
and  remarkable  personality  always  making  him  a 
welcome  guest.  The  association  of  the  two  young 
men  keeping  house  together  in  Tite  Street  had  the 
full  approval  of  Miles's  father,  but  the  old-fashioned 
cleric  became  alarmed  by  the  opinions  expounded 
in  a  book  of  verse  published  by  Oscar  Wilde.  He 
wrote  to  his  son  expressing  his  horror  at  the  sugges- 
tions contained  in  the  lines  he  had  read  ;  in  fact  he 


CHELSEA  III 

insisted  that  it  was  impossible  for  a  son  of  his  to 
continue  under  the  same  roof  with  a  man  capable 
of  holding  such  views. 

Difficult  as  it  must  have  been  for  Miles  to  face  the 
unpleasant  situation,  his  devotion  to  his  father 
left  him  no  alternative  and  he  felt  compelled  to 
place  the  whole  embarrassing  position  before  his 
friend.  Sally,  who  was  present,  told  me  that  Wilde, 
livid  with  rage,  flew  into  a  furious  passion  and 
demanded  to  know  if  Frank  Miles  intended  to  act 
upon  so  outrageous  a  breach  of  all  the  ties  of  their 
long  friendship.  Miles  protested  that  much  as  it 
grieved  him,  he  had  absolutely  no  alternative. 

"Very  well,  then,"  said  Wilde,  "I  will  leave  you. 
I  will  go  now  and  I  will  never  speak  to  you  again  as 
long  as  I  live." 

He  tore  upstairs,  flung  his  few  belongings  into  a 
great  travelling  trunk,  and  without  waiting  for  the 
servant  to  carry  it  downstairs,  tipped  it  over  the 
bannisters,  whence  it  crashed  down  upon  a  valuable 
antique  table  in  the  hall  below,  smashing  it  into 
splinters.  Hailing  a  passing  cab,  he  swept  out  of 
the  house,  speechless  with  passion,  slamming  a  door 
he  was  never  to  darken  again. 

The  tide  of  fashion  for  ever  ebbing  and  flowing 
became  diverted  into  other  channels  and  after  a 
time  gradually  receded  altogether.  Dame  Fortune 
ceased  to  smile  on  Miles  or  his  work,  which  clever, 
dainty  and  novel,  was  lacking  in  vigour  and 
adaptability.  Gradually  it  failed  to  retain  its  hold 
on  a  fickle  public.  He  was  a  kindly,  sociable  fellow, 
more  devoted  to  his  garden  than  to  the  laborious 
work  of  his  profession,  with  the  result  that  he  was 


112       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

soon  forgotten.  Whether  his  heart  was  broken 
by  disappointment  will  never  be  known,  but  the 
sad  fact  remains  that  he  lost  his  reason,  and  the 
spoilt  darling  of  London  drawing-rooms  ended  his 
days  in  a  home  for  the  insane. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

THE   STORY   OF   SALLY 

SALLY    had    severed    her    close    association 
with  Tite   Street   long  before    this,   neither 
did  she   see   any   more   of  Wilde,  who  had 
written   a    poem   in    praise    of    her    charm. 
It  began  : 

"  O  star  with  the  crimson  mouth 
O  moon  with  the  brow  of  gold.  .  .  ." 

But  in  no  case  could  she  ever  resume  her  old  life 
in  a  slum  off  the  Horseferry  Road,  though  she  never 
failed  in  her  affectionate  regard  for  her  old  mother, 
to  whose  support  she  always  made  adequate  con- 
tributions through  all  the  varying  conditions  of  her 
subsequent  existence. 

She  married,  while  still  in  her  teens,  a  boy  just 
home  from  Eton,  whose  infatuation  did  not  meet 
with  the  approval  of  his  stern  parent,  a  wealthy 
banker  and  chairman  of  one  of  the  most  famous 
and  exclusive  Clubs  in  London.  In  the  hope  that 
they  might  drift  apart,  the  boy  was  sent  out  to  a 
post  in  the  United  States,  leaving  Sally  with  a  paltry 
£2  a  week,  at  the  mercy  of  all  the  temptations 
besetting  a  young  girl  of  rare  beauty  suddenly 
deprived  of  the  means  to  gratify  tastes  to  which  she 
had  already  grown  accustomed.  - 

113 


114       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

During  this  drab  interval  I  know  she  was  induced 
to  take  flight  with  an  adoring  school-mate  of  her 
husband's,  but  on  the  journey  to  Scotland  she 
quarrelled  with  her  devout  lover  and,  tearing  his 
bracelets  from  her  wrists  and  rings  from  her  fingers, 
flung  them  out  through  the  window  into  the  night 
and  took  the  next  train  back  to  London  to  await 
the  return  of  her  lord.  He,  though  kept  without 
the  means  to  return  by  his  relentless  parent,  stowed 
himself  away  on  a  tramp  steamer  in  New  York  and, 
working  his  passage  back,  returned  penniless  and 
in  rags  to  his  little  wife  at  home.  His  father  never 
forgave  this,  and  to  the  end  of  his  days  was  adamant 
in  declining  to  add  to  the  pittance  of  £2  a  week, 
which  barely  sufficed  to  keep  the  wolf  from  the 
door  of  the  bed-sitting-room  existence  which  was 
theirs  from  that  time. 

After  a  fitful  return  to  her  old  calHng  as  pro- 
fessional model  to  eke  out  their  weekly  allowance, 
I  lost  sight  of  Sally  until  an  actor  friend  informed 
me  that  she  was  appearing  at  the  Palace  Theatre 
in  "  Living  Pictures,"  a  form  of  spectacular  enter- 
tainment very  popular  at  that  period.  He  invited 
me  round  to  his  dressing-room  so  that  I  might  have 
the  opportunity  of  getting  a  word  with  Sally  after 
the  performance.  Waiting  by  the  stage  door  I  saw 
her  leave  the  theatre,  but  there  was  another  man 
wearing  a  costly  fur  coat  who  conducted  her  to 
a  smart  brougham.  With  her  foot  on  the  step  she 
turned  and  smiled  me  a  sweet  good-night,  and  I 
knew  that  she  had  no  desire  to  explain  or  excuse 
anything ;  that  whatever  the  position  might  be,  it 
had  to  be  and  was  for  the  best — for  her. 


"  Lrni.K  Sai.i.v.'' 

F'rom  tlic  picture  pa'mti'd  by  I'.ilwin  A.  Ward. 


THE  STORY  OF  SALLY  115 

She  had  previously  tried,  by  taking  small  parts, 
to  make  a  success  on  the  stage,  but  the  process  was 
too  slow  and  laborious,  so  she  accepted  the  help  of 
a  man  of  wealth  and  influence  who  made  himself 
responsible  for  a  production  with  Sally  as  leading 
lady. 

She  had  taken  her  seat,  followed  by  the  man  in 
the  fur-lined  coat,  and  the  carriage  driven  swiftly 
away  was  soon  lost  in  the  traffic. 

My  actor  friend,  taking  me  by  the  arm,  said, 
"  Well !  are  you  satisfied  now  that  you  have  seen 
her  ?  " 

"  Yes  !  fair  and  frail  as  ever ;  come  across  and 
have  a  drink." — We  had  several. 

For  a  few  years  all  trace  of  Sally  and  her  husband 
had  been  lost  to  me,  when  one  day  I  met  her  alone 
near  Hyde  Park  Corner,  very  demure  and  quietly 
dressed.  She  did  not  know  what  had  become  of 
her  husband,  what  he  was  doing,  or  anything 
about  him.  She  had  also  parted  from  her  patron  ; 
had  left  the  stage  and  had  been  prostrated  by  a 
serious  illness  and  all  but  died  of  it ;  a  kindly  fellow 
had  rescued  her  and  placed  her  in  a  first-class 
nursing-home.  She  was  there  for  many  months. 
When  restored  to  health  a  house  was  bought  for 
her  replete  with  every  comfort.  "  I  live  very 
quietly,"  she  said.  "  Wc  are  very  good  friends  ; 
he  is  exceedingly  kind  and  I  have  everything  I 
want." 

Some  years  later,  I  was  sitting  alone  in  a  little 
cafe  in  the  Wilton  Road  near  Victoria,  when,  to 
my  intense  surprise,  I  saw  sitting  at  a  table  across 
the  room,  Sally  with  her  husband  !    They  beckoned 


ii6       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

to  me  to  go  over  and  told  me,  "  We  have  only  just 
returned  from  Cairo  and  have  been  away  from 
England  for  a  year.  We  have  deposited  our 
luggage  in  rooms  we  have  taken  in  Ebury  Street, 
and  ran  along  here  for  a  little  supper  after  our 
journey.  Come  back  with  us  to  our  place  and  have 
a  cigarette." 

We  took  a  cab  back  to  the  rooms,  which  were 
littered  with  travelling  trunks  and  bundles  of  rugs 
not  yet  unpacked.  Sally  said,  "  There,  how  stupid 
of  me.  There  is  not  a  drop  of  anything  to  drink 
in  the  house.  Ernest  (that  was  her  husband),  jump 
into  the  cab,  drive  back  to  Victoria  and  buy  some 
wine  to  celebrate  this  merry  meeting." 

The  moment  he  had  gone  she  said  :  "I  had  to 
get  rid  of  him  in  order  to  tell  you  all  that  has 
happened.  Well,  perhaps  you  do  not  know  that  his 
father  died  some  eighteen  months  ago,  and  though 
they  had  not  spoken  for  years  and  years  he  left 
Ernest  ;fioo,ooo.  Also  you  may  not  be  aware  of 
the  fact  that  it  is  nine  years  since  we  parted.  During 
that  time  neither  of  us  knew  in  the  least  where  the 
other  lived  or  under  what  conditions. 

"  One  of  the  first  things  Ernest  did  was  to  drive 
down  to  my  married  sister,  whose  address  he  knew 
— they  live  near  Clapham  Junction  ;  her  husband 
is  a  gas-fitter.  Ernest  immediately  asked  :  *  Where 
can  I  find  my  wife  ? '  Maggie,  thoroughly  frightened, 
protested  that  she  did  not  know.  I  suppose  he  may 
have  expected  that  she  would  say  this  to  screen  me, 
for  he  told  her  of  his  father's  death  and  that  he 
was  now  a  rich  man.  Disregarding  her  statement 
that  she  knew  nothing  of  my  whereabouts,  he  said. 


THE  STORY  OF  SALLY  117 

'  Well,  I  must  go  now,  but  I  shall  be  here  again  on 
Saturday  with  a  carriage  to  take  my  wife  away. 
I  will  buy  this  cottage,  making  you  a  present  of  it, 
and  in  addition  to  this  I  will  settle  ^2  a  week  on 
you  for  life.  If  you  fail  to  produce  her  I  shall  drive 
away,  and  you  will  never  hear  of  me  again.' 

"  The  moment  he  had  left  Maggie  came  along  to 
where  I  lived  and  implored  me  for  their  sakes  and 
my  own  to  return  to  Ernest.  It  seemed  an  awful 
thing  to  do,  to  desert  the  man  who  had  done  so 
much  for  me  and  with  whom  I  was  perfectly  happy  ; 
but  Maggie  was  so  insistent  and  urged  me  to  come 
away  with  her  at  once,  and  this  seemed  easier  from 
the  fact  that  my  friend  was  away  at  Brighton  for 
a  few  days.  Well,  I  just  came  away  as  I  was;  and 
as  it  might  be  difficult  to  account  for  the  various 
pieces  of  jewellery  he  had  given  me  from  time  to 
time,  and  as  I  was  unwilling  to  wound  his  feelings 
by  leaving  them  behind  me,  I  threw  them  into  the 
fire  in  spite  of  Maggie's  protestations.  After  all, 
it  was  the  kindest  thing  to  do  with  them  under  the 
circumstances.  I  left  a  little  note  on  the  dressing- 
table — '  Good-bye  !  I  have  gone  back  to  my 
husband.' 

"  Ernest  never  asked  me  a  single  question  of  any 
kind.  Oh,  I  can't  tell  you  how  wonderful  he  has 
been.  He  arranged  to  take  me  right  away  from 
everything  at  once  for  a  whole  year.  We  started 
immediately  for  a  great  tour — France ;  Monte  Carlo ; 
Italy  ;  Spain  and  Egypt.  We  had  only  been  back 
an  hour  when  we  met  you  to-night.  Oh,  he  has 
been  too  wonderful — Hush  !  not  a  word,  here  he 
comes  with  the  wine." 


ii8       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Beyond  the  fact  that  they  were  expensively 
dressed,  drank  costly  wine  and  smoked  an  expensive 
brand  of  cigarette,  I  failed  to  see  that  they  were 
any  happier  than  they  were  years  before  when  a 
little  supper  was  fetched  from  "  over  the  way  " 
with  beer  in  a  can  (2d.  being  paid  on  the  can). 
A  feast  of  this  character  had  never  failed  in  the  old 
days  to  make  Sally  hilariously  happy.  I  was  curious 
to  see  how  she  would  stand  the  strain  of  controlling 
a  well-ordered  house  and  the  administration  of 
competent  servants. 

The  initial  attempt  was  a  failure.  A  small  farm 
was  bought  in  Gloucestershire,  and  after  a  course 
of  riding  lessons  it  was  hoped  that  Sally  would  find 
a  fresh  interest  in  following  the  hounds.  But  the 
property  had  to  be  disposed  of  as  she  refused  to 
be  buried  away  in  the  country.  She  was  then 
installed  in  a  beautiful  house  near  Richmond,  close 
to  the  Park,  where  she  could  still  continue  to  indulge 
in  a  gallop  over  the  turf. 

I  went  over  to  see  them  and  found  it  a  charming 
place,  handsomely  furnished,  beautiful  pictures 
on  the  walls,  stabling  for  several  horses,  a  well- 
ordered  garden,  a  large  tennis  lawn — a  perfectly 
appointed  place  in  which  Sally  was  absolutely 
miserable.  She  pined  for  the  romance  of  the  old 
hand  to  mouth  existence  with  its  informality  and 
freedom  and  preferred  a  picnic  in  the  kitchen  to 
presiding  at  her  own  table  in  the  dining-room.  All 
her  husband's  attempts  to  persuade  her  that  she  was 
a  great  lady  were  of  no  avail.  Occasional  trips  to 
town,  winding  up  with  a  music-hall  appeared  to  be 
their  sole  relaxation. 


THE  STORY  OF  SALLY  119 

"  Ernest  is  everything  that  is  good  and  kind," 
she  told  me,  "  and  devotes  his  Hfe  to  providing  for 
my  pleasure  and  amusement,  with  the  result  that  I 
get  sick  to  death  of  having  everything  I  want  and 
long  to  be  left  alone  to  do  I  as  like.  And  that  is 
not  good  for  me,  for  when  he  leaves  me  I  have 
nothing  to  do  but  to  wonder  what  he  may  be  doing. 
In  fact,  we  ought  to  have  children.  The  monotony 
of  this  'care-free'  existence  palls  upon  both  of  us, 
and  Ernest  is  afraid  that  I  may  be  taking  too 
many  little  drinks — so  I  hide  a  bottle  in  the 
summer-house  at  the  end  of  the  tennis  lawn.  Come 
and  see." 

He,  in  his  turn,  taking  the  dog  for  a  run  would 
call  at  the  "  Red  Lion  "  and  make  a  day  of  it, 
finding  on  his  return  that  Sally  had  been  consoling 
herself  during  his  absence — result  mutual  recrimina- 
tions and  a  royal  row. 

On  the  few  occasions  upon  which  I  was  induced 
to  visit  them  I  never  saw  a  well-ordered  meal. 
Sally  much  preferred  to  break  her  fast  with  a  slight 
and  scrappy  repast  with  the  cook  in  the  seclusion 
of  the  kitchen.  She,  in  despair  at  the  futility  of 
preparing  food  under  the  ordinary  conditions  of 
a  well-kept  house,  had  no  alternative  but  to  join 
her  mistress  and  indulge  her  in  all  this  wilful 
contravention  of  orderly  domestic  routine.  It 
could  not  last. 

Ernest  calling  upon  me  in  town  one  day,  obviously 
deeply  agitated,  blurted  out,  "  You  know  my 
Raebum  ?  Well  !  there  is  no  longer  any  Raeburn. 
Sally  in  a  fit  of  fury  has  slashed  it  into  ribbons  with 
a  carving-knife." 


120       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Having  had  considerable  experience  in  the  repair 
and  restoration  of  damaged  pictures,  I  tried  to 
console  him  by  the  assurance  that  I  would  endeavour 
to  make  good  the  injury  and  restore  the  picture 
to  its  original  condition.  As  a  matter  of  fact  this 
was  successfully  accomplished,  but  I  could  not  deal 
so  effectively  with  the  breach  that  had  been  widening 
between  this  pair  of  impossible  people. 

"  Will  you  come  over  and  see  what  she  proposes 
to  do  ?  "  asked  Ernest,  "  she  may  listen  to  you. 
Frankly  so  far  as  I  am  concerned  it  is  all  finished. 
She  must  be  mad." 

I  went  over  to  Richmond  the  morning  following 
and  at  midday  found  Sally  still  in  bed,  her  break- 
fast tray  flanked  by  an  arrangement  in  bottled 
Bass. 

"  The  whole  trouble,"  she  said,  "  is  that  Ernest 
drinks  and  I  can  stand  the  humiliation  no  longer. 
Did  he  tell  you  about  the  picture  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  I  replied.  "  It  is  possible  to  repair  that 
mischief,  but  can  it  be  true  that  all  his  devotion  to 
you  counts  for  nothing  ?  " 

She  was  incorrigible.  All  she  wanted  was  the 
freedom  to  live  her  life  in  her  own  untrammelled 
way.  They  parted,  an  agreement  being  drawn  up 
allowing  her  £500  a  year  for  life. 

With  all  his  defects  of  character,  Ernest  possessed 
the  supreme  faculty  of  devotion  to  the  woman  whose 
failings  he  regarded  merely  as  those  of  a  wilful 
child.  It  was  not  until  he  realized  that  all  his  efforts 
to  minister  to  her  happiness  merely  aroused  in  her 
a  frenzy  of  resentment  which  nothing  could  tame 
or  subdue  that  he  abandoned  all  hope. 


THE  STORY  OF  SALLY  121 

At  rare  intervals  I  saw  him,  sinking  deeper  and 
deeper  in  the  morass  of  his  own  making — a  broken- 
hearted man,  bereft  of  any  real  desire  to  raise  his 
head  out  of  the  mire  which  finally  engulfed  him. 

What  she  did  with  her  freedom  I  never  knew. 


CHAPTER  IX 

EASTWARD    HO  ! 

LEAVING  the  Savage  Club  one  afternoon  I 
looked  into  the  bar  and  found  Raymond 
^  Blathwayt,  the  solitary  occupant,  reclining 
on  a  sofa.  He  was  a  poor  drinker,  and  it 
surprised  me  that  he  should  seek  his  refuge  in  a  place 
where  only  drinks  were  served.  He  welcomed  me, 
although  we  were  more  or  less  strangers,  and 
enquired  where  I  was  going.  I  replied  that  I  was 
going  home.  "  Where  is  that  ?  "  he  ejaculated. 
I  said  that  I  lived  at  Strawberry  Hill.  "  May  I  come 
with  you  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Certainly,"  I  replied,  "  but  you  must  under- 
stand that  my  family  happen  to  be  away  at  the  sea- 
side and  I  fear  that  the  entertainment  will  be  of 
a  limited  character.  There  is  only  one  servant 
in  the  house,  and  as  I  am  busy  in  town  all  and  every 
day  the  solitary  evening  meal  is  of  the  most  modest 
description.  However,  you  are  more  than  welcome 
if  prepared  to  face  these  spartan  conditions — at 
any  rate,  there  is  always  cold  beef  and  beer." 

"  I  can't  bear  beer,"  was  all  he  said. 

"  Well,  time  presses,  and  unless  we  start  soon  all 
the  good  trains  from  Waterloo  will  have  departed." 

"  Wait  a  moment,"  he  said,  as  he  released  his 

122 


EASTWARD  HO!  123 

lazy  length  from  the  well-known  couch  in  the 
corner,  for  which  he  had  never  qualified,  "  first  of 
all,  have  you  any  cigars  ?  " 

"  No,  I  never  smoke  them,"  I  replied,  "  but  the 
barman  here  knows  what  you  smoke  and  drink, 
and  if  you  really  care  to  come  along  I  will  get  him 
to  make  up  a  parcel  of  wine  and  cigars  ;  but  really 
we  must  be  off." 

Blathwayt  became  most  business-like  quite 
suddenly.  Burgundy  appeared  to  be  his  tipple, 
a  brace  of  bottles  and  a  bundle  of  the  cigars  he 
fancied  were  parcelled,  and  away  we  toddled  towards 
Hungerford  foot-bridge,  which  separates  the  Savage 
Club  from  the  rest  of  the  universe. 

As  we  left  Adelphi  Terrace  he  remarked,  "  I  am 
rather  worried  about  the  food  question  ;  I  don't 
like  cold  meat."  I  confessed  that  I  hated  it  too. 
"  Right,"  said  he,  "  there  is  a  shop  in  the  Strand 
where  we  can  buy  a  bird.  The  only  trouble  is, 
can  your  maid-of-all-work  cook  it  ?  " 

**  Well,"  I  replied,  "  we  rarely  indulge  in  game, 
but  she  is  a  sensible  woman,  and  I  have  no  doubt 
will  make  a  special  effort  to-night." 

He  thereupon  led  me  to  his  shop  in  the  Strand, 
where  rows  of  feathered  things,  fastened  by  their 
feet,  hung  head  downwards  above  the  marble 
slab  upon  which  were  displayed  glittering  rows  of 
silvery  salmon.  At  Blathwayt's  direction  I  bought 
a  brace  of  birds,  which  the  man  in  a  thick,  blue 
woolly  apron  proceeded  to  place  in  a  "  mat  "  with 
a  skewer  through  it.  Blathwayt,  bristling  with 
ideas,  expressed  his  approval  and  added,  "  What 
about  a  salmon  steak  to  begin  with  ?  " 


124       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

"  Excellent,"  I  said,  and  this  was  included  in 
our  parcel  and  off  we  went  to  Waterloo. 

Arriving  there  I  explained  to  Blathwayt  that  it 
suited  my  purse  and  plans  to  travel  by  what  is 
known  as  the  "  workmen's  train,"  a  return  ticket 
in  those  days  costing  sevenpence  as  against  the 
ordinary  fare  of  two-and-six.  To  qualify  for  this 
privilege  you  had  to  catch  a  train  to  town  starting 
from  the  local  station  before  seven-thirty  in  the 
morning,  but  you  were  entitled  to  return  by  any 
train  in  the  afternoon.  Blathwayt  protested,  that 
being  in  delicate  health  he  really  could  not  face  the 
fatigue  of  a  crowded  third-class  carriage,  so  poor 
as  I  was  and  always  will  be,  I  bought  two  first-class 
returns  and  away  we  travelled  in  state  to  Straw- 
berry Hill. 

On  our  arrival  at  my  modest  home  the  supplies 
were  entrusted  to  my  domestic,  who  most  willingly 
consented  to  do  her  best  and  undertook  to  present 
the  fare  upon  the  table  within  two  hours.  I  suggested 
a  stroll  as  far  as  Teddington  Lock,  as  it  was  a  glorious 
autumnal  evening,  just  to  fill  in  the  time.  Blathwayt 
jibbed  at  this,  protesting  that  he  was  far  from  well 
and  preferred  to  rest  upon  the  sofa  until  dinner-time. 
Our  meal  was  much  to  his  liking,  and  after  it  he 
resumed  his  position  on  the  sofa  and  dozed  more  or 
less  until  bedtime.  I  gave  him  the  best  bedroom 
and  occupied  the  adjoining  dressing-room  myself. 

I  was  aroused  about  5  a.m.  by  a  tremendous 
banging  on  the  dividing  wall  with  a  request  for  early 
tea.  A  tray  was  always  placed  by  my  bed  holding 
a  spirit  lamp  and  all  the  things  necessary  to  the 
making  of  tea  at  any  hour,  so  in  a  few  minutes  I 


EASTWARD  HO  !  125 

took  him  in  a  large  cup.  "  But  where  is  the  bread 
and  butter  ?  "  he  cried,  "  I  can't  possibly  drink 
tea  without."  I  said  I  really  could  not  go  down  to 
the  larder  at  that  hour.  "  Well,  you  can  take  the 
tea  away,"  said  my  guest. 

I  produced  the  bread  and  butter  and  two  hours 
later  called  him  in  time  to  catch  the  train  I  usually 
travelled  by.  He  protested  that  he  did  not  feel 
well  enough  to  move  and  preferred  to  rest.  I  sug- 
gested that  it  would  be  rather  dull  for  him  all  alone 
in  the  house,  but  he  declared  that  he  would  be  quite 
all  right. 

On  my  return  that  evening  I  found  him,  garbed  in 
my  best  dressing-gown,  full  length  on  the  drawing- 
room  sofa,  which  he  had  dragged  in  front  of  a  blazing 
fire,  with  a  table  and  lamp  at  his  elbow,  regahng 
himself  with  some  excellent  chicken  soup  which  he 
had  ordered  to  be  prepared.  He  complained  that 
he  felt  exceedingly  ill,  though  quite  unable  to  explain 
the  nature  of  his  malady.  I  said  I  should  not  feel 
satisfied  until  he  had  consulted  a  doctor,  and 
intimated  that  if  he  did  not  feel  better  in  the  morning, 
the  local  practitioner  whom  we  employed  would 
most  certainly  be  sent  for. 

This  plan  did  not  fall  in  with  his  views  and  the 
following  morning  he  decided  that  though  still 
feeling  shockingly  ill  he  would  undertake  the  risk 
of  the  journey  to  town.  I  did  not  feel  disposed  to 
press  him  to  prolong  his  visit.  A  comparative 
stranger,  suffering  from  a  mysterious  malady,  and 
monopolising  all  the  small  comforts  of  a  tiny 
surburban  house  does  not  make  the  most  welcome 
of  guests.     I  did  not  fmd  Blathwayt  a  comfortable 


126       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

companion,  and  yet  within  a  few  months  he  and  I 
were  to  travel  together  all  the  way  to  Tokio  via 
Venice,  Egypt,  India,  Ceylon  and  China. 

The  ideal  companion  for  a  long  journey  has  yet 
to  be  discovered.  Travelling  together  for  months 
on  end  is  a  gift — they  don't  teach  it  at  any  school, 
public  or  private.  "  It  takes  two  to  make  a  quarrel," 
but  I  have  occasionally  seen  one  who  was  able  to 
produce  something  resembling  the  real  thing  without 
provocation  on  the  shortest  possible  notice.  As  a 
matter  of  fact,  unless  you  are  dead  sure  of  your  man 
— or  woman — you  are  much  better  off  picking  up 
people  as  you  go  along  and  dropping  them  if  they 
show  signs  of  becoming  tiresome. 

I  remember  two  elderly  ladies,  sisters,  who  grew 
so  sick  of  one  another's  company  while  travelling, 
that  when  they  reached  Yokohama  they  were 
arrested  for  throwing  stones  at  each  other  as  they 
walked  along  on  opposite  sides  of  the  street. 

My  companionship  in  travel  with  Raymond 
Blathwayt  happened  in  this  way.  He  told  me  he 
was  off  to  India,  and  asked,  "  Why  don't  you  come 
with  me  ?  "  I,  who  had  never  been  further  afield 
than  France,  wanted  to  see  India,  and  longed,  more 
than  all,  to  see  Japan — the  dream  of  my  life.  But 
alas  !  I  saw  no  chance  of  ever  realizing  so  wonderful 
a  vision. 

Blathwayt  proceeded  to  tell  me  that  he  was  going 
to  do  literary  work  for  the  P.  and  O.  Company. 
I  thereupon  suggested  that  the  only  thing  he  appeared 
to  lack  was  an  artist  to  illustrate  his  work.  He 
seemed  rather  taken  with  the  idea,  but  I  felt  that  the 
scheme  would  fall  through  if  it  were  left  entirely 


EASTWARD  HO  !  127 

to  him,  so  I  insisted  there  and  then  upon  his  writing 
to  the  Chairman  of  the  P.  and  O.  proposing  me  as  a 
suitable  man  for  the  business. 

Having  already  painted  portraits  of  the  Chief 
Resident  Magistrate  of  Calcutta  (Frederick  Marsden) 
and  Jamsetjee  Tata,  a  wealthy  and  powerful  Parsee 
merchant,  I  thought  it  possible  that  portraits  of 
native  princes  might  come  my  way,  and  proceeded 
to  collect  all  the  letters  of  introduction  to  influential 
people  in  the  Far  East  that  I  could. 

Blathwayt  and  myself  were  invited  to  spend  a 
week-end  at  Coldharbour  Wood,  a  beautiful  place 
near  Liphook,  built  for  the  late  Sir  Thomas  Suther- 
land (then  Chairman  of  the  P.  and  O.)  by  Colcutt, 
the  architect  who  also  designed  the  Imperiallnstitute 
and  much  similar  work.  Sir  Thomas  gave  me  a 
roving  commission,  all  the  details  were  settled,  and 
within  a  few  weeks  Blathwayt  and  I  were  aboard 
the  good  ship  "  Massiha  "  bound  for  Bombay. 

If  I  had  my  own  way — and  plenty  of  wealth 
withal — I  would  wander  round  the  world  whenever 
I  felt  weary  or  restless.  There  is  no  tonic  comparable 
with  it,  and  every  man  who  works  intensely,  striving 
to  express  all  that  he  is  capable  of,  must  occasionally 
escape  from  the  walls  of  the  prison  of  his  own 
creation.  Discomforts  and  trials  of  travelling  are 
entirely  imaginary  ;  it  is  far  easier  than  staying 
at  home,  can  be  cheaper,  and  certainly  much  more 
amusing  both  for  those  who  deserve  a  change  and 
for  many  who  require  it  without  deserving  it. 

Away  we  went.  We  touched  at  Malta,  a  perfectly 
wonderful  place.  Volumes  have  been  written  and 
remain  to  be  written  about  the  Knights  of  Malta. 


128       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

The  island  is  saturated  with  tradition,  and  what  a 
lovely  place  at  sunset  !  It  seemed  to  me  the  first 
peep  through  the  curtain  screening  our  sombre-tinted 
atmosphere  from  that  of  the  Far  East. 

What  a  marvellous  place  is  Venice  !  But  what 
a  cold  place  it  can  be  about  Christmas  time.  StiU, 
I  saw  that  masterpiece,  the  Miracle  of  St.  Mark,  by 
Tintoretto.  Francis  James,  the  painter  of  flowers, 
took  us  to  see  the  Marionettes,  and  gave  us  spaghetti 
in  caf6s  only  frequented  by  the  Venetians.  Walter 
Sickert  was  there  too,  wearing  a  beard  and  seriously 
striving  to  make  pictures  of  St.  Mark's  and  all  the 
angels. 

Lord,  how  nice  he  and  Mrs.  Sickert  were  to  us  ! 
They  had  been  lent  an  apartment  on  the  Zattere, 
the  only  condition  being  that  no  tobacco  of  any 
kind  should  be  consumed  on  the  premises.  After 
dining  there  we  smoked  our  cigarettes  leaning  out 
of  the  window,  which  was  shut  down  upon  our 
flanks  so  that  no  odour  of  tobacco  should  curl  back 
into  the  room.  A  bachelor  brother  of  the  Mont- 
albas'  showed  me  the  sights  of  Venice.  "  There  are 
a  hundred  churches  here  in  Venice  which  you  must 
see,  and  every  church  contains  at  least  one 
masterpiece." 

From  Venice  to  Cairo  may  not  be  a  great  affair 
in  the  matter  of  mere  mileage, — both  are  intensely 
interesting,  yet  how  different.  Venice  cannot  be 
compared  with  any  other  place  because  no  points 
of  comparison  exist.  There  is  only  one  Venice. 
Cairo  is  a  composite  place.  The  Citadel  is  a  bit  out 
of  the  Bible  ;  the  middle  or  modern  part  where 
Europeans   dwell  might   have  been   pinched  from 


EASTWARD  HO  !  129 

Paris  and  dumped  down  beside  the  Nile,  instead 
of  the  Seine,  filhng  the  space  between  Shepherd's 
Hotel  and  the  Pyramids ;  while  the  great  bridge 
over  the  Nile  is  always  crowded  with  camels,  Arabs, 
mules.  Bedouins,  negroes,  Europeans  and  Egyptians 
— a  medley  of  ever-moving  masses,  human  and 
animal,  of  every  colour,  kind  and  race. 

From  Cairo  we  took  train  to  Ismailia  to  await  the 
arrival  of  the  P.  and  O.  mailship  "  Caledonia," 
bound  for  Bombay.  We  dined  at  Ismailia,  and  I 
remember  at  the  same  table  were  a  bride  and  bride- 
groom on  their  honeymoon — the  young  Duke  and 
Duchess  of  Marlborough.  He  looked  such  a  simple, 
little  fellow,  and  she  beautiful  and  graceful  beyond 
the  common. 

At  last,  the  great  ship  hove  in  sight,  brilliantly 
lighted  from  stem  to  stern.  We  were  soon  aboard 
her — the  biggest  ship  I  had  ever  sailed  in,  and 
it  seemed  rather  ignominious  joining  a  brilliant 
assembly  after  dinner,  arrayed  in  our  travel-stained 
clothes,  but  next  day  we  were  made  quite  at  home 
as  my  travelling  companion  was  an  old  friend  of 
the  skipper,  Captain  Andrews — better  known  as 
"  Bos'un  Bill,"  a  famous  character  in  those  days. 
I  believe  he  had  risen  from  A.B.  to  command  the 
best,  biggest  and  fastest  ship  then  afloat. 

We  had  aboard,  among  many  other  famous 
people.  General  Gatacre  and  Colonel  Ian  Hamilton. 
During  our  passage  through  the  Dead  Sea  came  the 
startling  news  of  the  Jameson  Raid,  which  created 
a  profound  impression,  especially  among  the  very 
large  mihtary  crowd  on  their  way  to  rejoin  in 
India. 


130       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

General  Gatacre — stern  disciplinarian,  known  to 
Tommy  Atkins  as  "  Backacher  " — was  proceeding 
to  India  in  order  to  take  up  the  command  in  Bombay. 
I  saw  him  there  some  weeks  later  reviewing  the  Royal 
Irish  Rifles.  This  regiment,  a  few  years  later  at 
Stormberg,  he  was  to  have  the  misfortune  to  lead 
into  an  ambush  in  a  surprise  night-attack  early  in 
the  Boer  War. 

The  story  goes  that  the  guide  he  employed  for 
that  enterprise  decoyed  them  into  the  ambush 
during  the  night  march,  and  just  as  dawn  broke, 
he  turned  to  Gatacre,  saying,  "  Here  is  your  position 
and  there  is  your  enemy."  Report  relates  that 
Gatacre,  realizing  the  murderous  trap  into  which 
he  had  been  betrayed,  turned  his  revolver  upon  the 
man  and  shot  him  dead.  The  Boers  were  secure  in 
a  formidable  position  and  the  only  force  surprised 
was  the  British,  with  the  result  that  the  Royal 
Irish  Rifles  were  all  but  annihilated. 

From  this  disaster  the  prestige  of  Gatacre  never 
recovered.  He  was  given  a  home  command  and 
disappeared  from  the  public  eye — one  of  the  many 
shattered  reputations  for  which  the  Boer  War 
was  responsible. 

The  other  notable  soldier  on  the  "  Caledonia  " 
— Ian  Hamilton — curiously  enough  happened  to 
be  one  of  the  very  few  who  escaped  with  their  lives 
from  that  hilltop  of  Majuba  where  the  force  led 
by  Sir  George  Colley  suffered  such  a  dire  disaster 
and  Colley  himself  was  killed.  This,  of  course, 
was  in  the  earlier  Boer  War. 

The  peace  which  Gladstone  patched  up  with  the 
Boers  after  Majuba  was  not  at  all  to  the  liking  of 


EASTWARD  HO  !  131 

the  military  command  conducting  those  operations. 
Sir  Evelyn  Wood,  it  is  said,  broke  his  sword  across 
his  knee  with  rage  on  receipt  of  the  news,  and  Lord 
Roberts  vowed  that  he  could  never  rest  until  the 
shame  of  the  disgraceful  arrangement  with  the 
enemy,  which  he  regarded  as  a  surrender,  could  be 
wiped  out.  It  is  a  matter  of  history  how  twenty 
years  later  he  made  that  vow  good,  and  laid  the 
foundation  for  a  great  peace  in  South  Africa  which 
with  all  its  humane  developments  created  a  situation 
which  should  make  us  friends  with  the  Boers  for  all 
time. 

Ian  Hamilton  I  found  a  highly  cultured,  accom- 
plished man.  He  held  with  distinction  several 
important  commands  from  that  time  right  up  to 
the  outbreak  of  the  Great  War.  He  wrote  an 
exhaustive  report  of  his  operations  in  the  Dardanelles, 
but  the  part  he  played  in  that  futile  attempt  to 
take  Constantinople  has  been  characterized  as  having 
all  the  features  of  a  "  glorified  yachting  trip."  My 
son,  Peter,  who  fought  all  through  the  misery  of 
that  murderous  gamble  wrote,  "  Ian  Hamilton  has 
gone  home.  He  appears  to  have  confused  general- 
ship with  journalism." 

The  comic  element  of  our  voyage  was  provided 
by  a  most  interesting,  middle-aged  lady  who  was 
returning  to  India  after  many  years'  absence. 
During  the  last  two  days  of  our  trip  this  lady  was 
missing  from  the  ship's  company  and  kept  strictly 
to  her  own  cabin.  As  we  anchored  off  Bombay, 
and  the  steamer  came  alongside  bringing  a  large 
party  of  people  who  trooped  aboard  to  meet  their 
friends  from  England,   this  lady,   who  during  the 


132        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

voyage  had  dressed  and  comported  herself  in  a 
manner  suited  to  a  dame  approaching  middle  age, 
now  emerged  adorned  like  a  butterfly.  The  hair 
that  had  been  becomingly  grey  was  now  a  flaming 
yellow,  a  brilliant  and  highly-coloured  complexion 
with  crimson  lips  and  pencilled  eyebrows  had  replaced 
the  solemnly  sallow  facial  effect  to  which  we  had  been 
accustomed  during  the  journey,  the  entire  effect 
producing  a  most  surprising  change. 

We  gathered  that  several  years  before  she  and  her 
husband  had  fallen  out  and  now  at  last  were  to  be 
re-united.  He  was  there  to  meet  her,  and  this  was 
her  attempt  to  reproduce  the  charms  she  imagined 
were  her  portion  when  last  she  and  he  were  living 
together.  I  only  hope  he  appreciated  the  pains 
she  had  taken  to  please  him. 

The  first  few  hours  at  Bombay !  They  fairly 
take  your  breath  away.  The  humid  heat,  the  din, 
the  stir,  the  bustle,  the  glare,  the  sweltering,  boiling 
day  and  the  mysterious  mosquito-bitten  night, 
the  "  boy  "  asleep  on  the  mat  of  your  bedroom 
door,  and  the  walls  which  are  only  partitions  and 
carry  no  roof.  The  first  night  is  so  full  of  strange 
noises  that  the  very  idea  of  sleep  seems  out  of  the 
question,  and  the  scanty  scrap  you  steal  at  dawn 
is  dashed  by  an  apparition  in  a  coal-black  face  and 
snow-white  garments,  carrying  a  tray  with  toast  and 
tea.  His  approaching  footsteps  have  made  no  more 
noise  than  a  kitten  makes  in  crossing  a  carpet, 
and  the  one  word  "  sahib  "  crashes  into  your  brain- 
fevered,  belated  slumber,  and  you  realize  what 
it  is  to  wake  up  for  the  first  time  in  India. 

After  calling  on  the  Governor,  and  inscribing  our 


EASTWARD  HO  !  133 

names  in  the  book,  we  were  in  due  course  bidden  to 
dine  at  Government  House,  where  among  others 
I  remember  meeting  Princess  Henry  of  Pless,  full 
of  the  joy  of  life  and  very  handsome,  and  Prince 
Henry  of  Prussia  and  Francis  of  Teck,  all  very 
magnificent.  A  superb  mihtary  band  played  outside 
on  the  moonht  terrace,  backed  by  the  ghttering 
sea  and  domed  by  all  the  glory  of  an  Indian  night, 
stabbed  with  countless  stars  to  deepen  the  purple 
canopy. 

It  was  my  first  experience  of  Vice-Regality,  and 
I  felt  as  the  evening  progressed  that  all  this  pomp 
had  been  kept  from  me  too  long,  and  a  palace  was 
the  only  place  for  me.  Waking  up  in  my  barn  of 
a  room  at  Watson's  Hotel  the  next  morning  I  was 
not  nearly  so  well,  and  found  no  hat  that  did  not 
hurt,  but  the  fresh  radiance  of  dawn  in  India  had 
to  be  dealt  with,  and  so  donning  flannels  and  hght 
footgear,  I  sallied  forth  to  greet  His  Majesty  the 
Sun  before  the  glory  of  his  face  became  too  manifest. 
Meeting  one  of  the  A.D.C.'s,  who  was  also  taking 
the  morning  air,  he  remarked  upon  my  somewhat 
chastened  appearance.  "  I  felt  so  well  last  night," 
I  confessed,  "  and  drank  fashions  of  His  Excellency's 
champagne." 

"Ah,  why  did  you  not  consult  me?"  said  the 
A.D.C.,  "  we  stick  to  whisky  and  soda.  There  is 
so  much  unavoidable  entertainment  to  be  dispensed 
by  the  Governor  that  the  treasury  would  be  depleted 
if  every  globe-trotter  with  a  tropical  thirst  were 
regaled  with  vintage  wine,  so  a  sparkhng  variety, 
known  as  'Party'  wine  is  provided,  and  woe  be  to 
him  who  wallows  in  it." 


134       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

I  replied  ruefully  that  my  inexperience  had 
punished  me  very  severely  as  I  had  stuck  to  the 
"  pop  "  and  the  "  pop  "  was  still  sticking  to  me. 
I  did  not  require  the  comfort  of  his  assurance  that 
I  should  know  better  next  time. 

Believe  me,  the  gyrations  of  this  drinking  business 
would  baffle  anybody  but  a  brewer,  distiller  or  wine 
merchant — look  at  the  millions  they  make,  and  what 
a  short  cut  to  the  Peerage.  They  can  handle  the 
stuff — you  can't  silly  them.  They  know  the  anguish 
that  lurks  in  a  libation  too  prolonged,  they  also 
provide  you  with  cunning  cocktails  to  carry  you  on 
from  one  carousal  to  the  indiscretion  of  another, 
till  you  are  lulled  into  the  belief  that  the  only  way 
out  is  to  get  drunk  and  keep  drunk. 

There  is  another  way,  though  the  first  lap  or 
two  of  the  course  would  try  the  temper  of  the 
sturdiest,  and  that  is,  instead  of  trying  to  step  the 
track,  you  jump  on  to  a  thing  called  (by  those  in 
the  know)  "  The  Waggon."  It  is  a  comfortless 
kind  of  carriage  and  it  takes  a  lot  of  courage  to 
stick  it.  Many  people  have  tried  it  and  failed 
repeatedly,  but  I  am  told  by  those  who  are  able  to 
hold  on  that  it  gets  easier  the  longer  you  hold  on 
to  it. 

Discussing  this  difficult  question  with  a  highly 
intelligent  lady  of  my  acquaintance  I  avowed  that 
it  might  be  better  to  avoid  all  bars  and  similar 
refreshment  dispensaries  altogether.  She  replied, 
"  Yes,  you  can  do  that  if  you  prefer  it,  but  you  will 
miss  all  the  important  people." 

I  have  mixed  with  men  of  every  rank,  creed  and 


EASTWARD  HO  !  135 

race,  and  have  found  the  pick  of  the  basket  gathered 
together  where  good  Hquor  was  to  be  found.  If 
only  its  use  could  be  reserved  for  feast  days  and 
suchlike  to  grace  a  special  occasion,  but  it  is  apt  to 
encroach  too  far.  Of  course,  you  cannot  expect 
to  encounter  any  serious  conflict  without  casualties, 
and  it  is  better  to  bear  in  mind  that  Barleycorn  is 
a  hearty  fellow  and  that  any  vessel  can  be  too 
regular  in  its  visits  to  the  well. 

See  how  attractive  even  are  the  cups  which  carry 
the  sparkling  potion  to  one's  lips.  "  All  that  glitters 
is  not  glass,"  but  how  beautiful  many  of  them  are, 
worthy  in  every  way  of  the  wine  brimming  to  their 
rims. 

The  collecting  of  glass  has  been  a  cult  all  my  time, 
and  long  before  that,  and  will  continue  doubtless 
for  countless  years,  long  after  mine  are  numbered. 
Some  have  a  weakness  for  Waterford,  others  for 
Bohemian.  Then  there  are  those  who  care  for 
nothing  but  Venetian — and  so  on.  And  mind  you, 
lots  of  these  good  people — cunning  as  they  are  in 
the  quest  of  their  quarry — remain  blissfully  forgetful 
of  the  very  purpose  for  which  each  and  every 
vessel  of  glass  in  the  world  was  originally  cut  or 
blown. 

It  is  perfectly  obvious  that  they  were  intended 
to  contain  good  liquor.  That  this  was  their  purpose 
in  life  cannot  be  disputed.  And  yet  I  am  acquainted 
with  many  people  of  undoubted  intelligence  and 
spotless  lives,  possessing  priceless  collections  of 
perfectly  wonderful  glass,  who  wilfully  ignore  the 
very  purpose  and  the  only  reason  for  which  these 
lovely  vessels  were  designed.     On  the  other  hand 


136        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

we  all  know  people  so  careless  of  consequence  and 
the  fitness  of  things  that  on  occasions  they  venture 
to  sip  champagne  out  of  a  teacup.  Criminal  I  call 
it,  yet  I  have  seen  it  done. 

Take  the  case  of  a  friend  of  mine  who  assured 
me  as  a  fact  that  on  one  desperate  occasion  he  was 
driven  to  decide  quickly  whether  he  would  take  his 
whisky  out  of  a  teapot  or  go  without  it  altogether. 
He  elected  to  take  it,  and  who  can  blame  him;  it 
might  have  happened  to  anybody.  The  folk  at 
fault  are  those  owners  of  glass  who  neglect  to  fill 
them  on  occasions  when  such  a  ceremony  would  seem 
to  be  clearly  indicated. 

I  like  the  bottle  brought  to  table ;  no  decanters 
for  me,  with  the  solitary  exception  perhaps  of  a 
crusted  port.  The  drawing  of  the  cork  should  be 
made  a  personal  matter  and  not  relegated  to  an 
individual  who  presumably  is  not  destined  to  take 
any  important  part  in  the  consumption  of  the  wine. 
Let  the  glass  be  liberal  in  its  dimensions,  like  a 
stately  crystal  tulip  perched  on  its  stem.  Greet 
each  bottle  with  the  courtesy  of  a  stainless  glass. 

We  all  know  to  our  cost  that  though  in  the  good 
old  days  excellent  liquor  was  procurable  at  a  fair 
price,  this,  alas !  is  so  no  longer.  Take  my  own  case. 
I  happen  to  possess  a  tumbler  of  the  "  schooner  " 
class,  so  generously  built  that  it  will  hold  when 
lovingly  loaded  a  bottle  of  whisky  and  a  syphon  of 
soda.  It  is  known  as  the  "  Captain's  Nightcap," 
and  came  from  the  wreck  of  the  "  Preussen,"  the 
biggest  sailing  ship  in  the  world,  which  went  ashore 
some  years  before  the  war,  close  to  Dover.  The 
pity  of  it  is  that  the  day  has  departed  when  I  could 


EASTWARD  HO!  137 

afford  to  keep  this  friendly  fellow  on  active  service, 
so  I  am  looking  around  to  find  a  mortal  more 
fortunately  circumstanced.  If  he  can  afford  to 
fill  and  keep  it  in  anything  like  steady  employment, 
it  is  his. 

But  really  we  must  be  getting  back  to  Bombay. 


CHAPTER  X 

BOMBAY   AND    HYDERABAD 

COME  with  me  at  break  of  day  and  breathe 
a  prayer  to  the  sun  rising  in  his  splendour 
across  the  sea.  Crowds  of  worshippers 
throng  the  shore,  making  obeisance  to  the 
Lord  of  all  light  and  life.  It  will  soon  be  time  to 
get  back  to  your  bath  and  seek  the  shade  of  your 
dwelling-place.  Later  in  the  day  you  shall  come 
with  me,  between  tea  and  dinner  time,  and  I  will 
show  you  one  of  the  fairest  sights  in  the  East.  We 
will  sit  and  gaze  at  the  sea  from  the  lawn  of  the 
Yacht  Club.  When  you  turn  your  gaze  from  the 
glory  of  sky  and  sea  there  is  a  feast  of  kaleidoscopic 
colour  in  the  dazzling  native  throng  crowding  the 
Bund  just  outside  the  palings.  But  not  inside ! 
A  junior  clerk  in  a  bank  in  Bombay  sits  there  like 
any  lord,  sipping  his  sherbet  with  the  best,  but  it 
has  been  thought  wise  that  the  Rajah  and  Maharajah 
should  be  kept  outside  the  pale.  This  has  probably 
been  altered  since  I  was  there,  but  at  that  time  it 
seemed  curious  to  a  visitor  like  myself  that  we  might 
(as  everybody  does,  both  high  and  low)  accept  the 
princely  hospitality  of  Gaekwar,  Nizam  or  Parsee 
merchant  prince,  and  yet  you  might  not  ask  them 
to  join  you  in  any  form  of  entertainment  within 
the  sacred  precincts  of  the  Yacht  Club. 

138 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  139 

So  green  and  fresh  was  I  to  all  the  dangers  of 
rashness  in  regard  to  diet  in  tropical  lands  that  I 
partook  of  oysters  in  Bombay,  with  the  result  that 
in  a  few  hours  I  was  prostrate  with  an  attack  of 
Asiatic  cholera.  I  had  already  been  informed  that 
it  was  by  no  means  uncommon  to  meet  a  man  in 
the  early  morning  and  follow  his  funeral  procession 
in  the  evening  of  the  same  day — affairs  of  this  sort 
are  handled  at  great  speed  under  tropical  skies.  If 
you  are  in  any  hurry  to  test  the  truth  of  this  there 
are  few  swifter  ways  than  a  surfeit  of  oysters  fresh 
from  Bombay. 

It  was  a  busy  day  for  me  when  I  was  taken  ill  in 
Bombay.  The  attack  came  on  quite  early  and  I 
was  left  all  alone  with  my  black  servant,  who 
betrayed  as  much  emotion  as  an  ebony  image. 
Blathwayt  was  obliged  to  go  out  for  the  day  ;  he 
had  an  important  interview  with  Jamsetgee  Tata, 
the  millionaire  Parsee  merchant  prince,  on  the 
cotton  question,  but  he  did  all  he  could  for  me.  I 
absolutely  turned  down  his  suggestion  of  calling  in 
a  strange  doctor.  Being  averse  at  all  times  to 
surrendering  myself  to  the  tender  mercies  of  the 
medical  practitioner  I  fought  shy  of  falling  into  the 
hands  of  the  type  you  might  tumble  across  playing 
the  apothecary  in  that  plague  and  fever-swept  place. 
As  I  was  determined  to  see  no  doctor  Blathwayt 
did  the  next  best  thing,  and  bought  me  a  bottle  of 
chlorodyne  and  off  he  went  to  his  work.  I  saw  it 
was  up  to  me  to  get  the  better  of  this  cholera  business 
before  the  day  was  out,  or  possibly  it  might  see  me 
out. 

The  bedrooms  at  "Watson's"  in  those  days  were 


140       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

of  the  barest  possible  description — the  very  last 
place  on  earth  in  which  to  spend  a  happy  day. 
Mine  had  a  temporary  appearance  like  a  room  run 
up  in  a  hurry  by  scene-shifters  in  a  tenth-rate 
provincial  theatre  for  a  one-night  show.  A  rickety 
iron  bedstead  just  strong  enough  to  stand  the  strain 
of  supporting  the  mosquito-curtains  stood  in  the 
centre  of  the  room,  and  here  and  there  were  odd- 
ments of  furniture  barely  sufficient  to  contain  the 
few  articles  of  apparel  a  traveller  might  require  for 
the  night — in  the  main  that  was  all  it  was  meant 
for  :  people  putting  up  for  a  night  or  two  on  their 
way  to  their  different  stations.  The  cemented  floor 
had  just  a  scrap  of  carpet  beside  the  bed,  a  dingy 
little  cubbyhole  where  you  took  your  tub  was  at 
one  end  of  the  room,  and  at  the  other  was  an  alcove 
with  wide-open  windows,  looking  out  on  a  garden 
with  lofty  trees  filled  with  crows,  who  cawed  and 
chattered  during  the  whole  of  that  dreadful  day. 
They  were  talking  about  me — speculating  when  I 
should  get  tired  of  dragging  my  weary  feet  to  and 
fro  between  bed  and  bathroom. 

My  silent  black  servant  occupied  himself  bringing 
me  relays  of  hot  milk,  which  I  sipped  during  the 
whole  day,  my  horse-sense  telling  me  that  this  must 
be  the  best  method  of  allaying  the  poison. 

Sweltering  as  the  weather  was  I  shivered  and 
shook — chilled  to  the  marrow  with  fever  and  pain. 
The  crows  seemed  curiously  interested  in  my 
condition,  and  the  more  I  shivered  the  more  they 
chattered.  Gradually  as  I  got  weaker  and  worse, 
and  clung  for  comfort  to  the  iron  support  of  my  bed, 
the  windows  became  crowded  with  them,  all  noisily 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  141 

proclaiming  the  fact  to  their  fellows  that  the  mortal 
inside  would  very  shortly  be  too  weak  to  keep  them 
out.  Soon  they  even  dared  to  enter  the  room  and 
make  a  playground  of  my  alcove,  but  it  was  not  until 
a  few  of  the  ringleaders  were  emboldened  by  my 
weakened  condition  to  flop  down  the  two  steps  from 
the  alcove  into  the  bedroom  that  I  realized  what 
Bombay  crows  were  for,  and  that  if  I  lost  conscious- 
ness they  might  proceed  to  ply  their  revolting  trade. 

Whether  it  was  the  prospect  of  something  horrible 
of  this  sort  happening  to  me  I  know  not,  but  some- 
how late  in  the  afternoon  I  took  a  turn  for  the  better, 
and  my  loathsome  feathered  intruders  gradually 
withdrew  their  baneful  presence,  and  cawed  their 
noisy  disgust  at  my  recovery  from  the  branches  of 
the  trees  outside.  I  had  had  a  trying  day — Bombay 
oysters  should  be  avoided  if  another  food  is  avail- 
able. 

Blathwayt  had  an  old  schoolmate,  Dick  Willis, 
who  was  "  adviser "  to  Abdul  Huk,  a  wealthy 
Hindoo  known  as  the  "  Sirdar,"  who  filled  an 
important  post  in  the  administration  of  the  Nizam 
of  Hyderabad.  Abdul  Huk  was  a  man  of  great 
force  of  character  and  had  attracted  the  notice  even 
of  the  Rothschilds,  who  entertained  the  highest 
opinion  of  his  genius  for  finance. 

We  were  invited  to  be  his  guests  for  the  wedding 
festivities  in  honour  of  the  marriage  of  his  son  and 
heir,  a  boy  of  nineteen.  Our  travelling  expenses 
from  Bombay  and  back  were  defrayed  ;  a  great 
marquee  had  been  erected  in  the  compound  adjacent 
to  his  residence,  and  here  a  special  chef  from  Bombay 
served  a  banquet  each  evening  during  the  fortnight's 


142       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

festivities  ;  vintage  wines  of  every  conceivable  sort 
were  provided,  although  the  Sirdar  and  his  family 
and  suite  were  abstainers  of  the  most  rigid  type  ; 
and  after  dinner  Nautch  and  other  native  entertain- 
ments were  provided  which  often  lasted  into  the 
small  hours  of  the  next  morning.  Fantastic  pro- 
cessions proceeded  to  and  fro  between  bride  and 
bridegroom — elephants  laden  with  an  exchange  of 
gifts  being  heralded  by  the  deafening  din  of  drums 
and  the  squeal  of  ear-splitting  trumpets  of  every 
excruciating  kind.  Nothing  was  lacking  in  the  way 
of  noise  to  advertise  the  approach  of  each  fresh 
tribute  of  affectionate  regard  between  the  bridal 
pair. 

At  the  period  of  which  I  write — twenty-six  years 
ago — the  so-called  hotels  in  a  Native  State  were  of 
the  weirdest  and  most  wretched  description  imagin- 
able :  just  a  shell,  like  a  grey,  rickety  box-kite,  with 
a  few  oddments  of  furniture  scattered  in  each 
compartment ;  the  floor  being  inches  deep  in  hot 
sand.  Here  we  had  to  spend  our  days  as  we  were 
not  due  to  appear  until  dinner-time  at  the  Sirdar's. 
Owing  to  the  overnight  festivities  lasting  until 
four  o'clock  in  the  morning,  no  one  was  visible  at  all 
until  sundown,  and  in  any  case  the  residence  of  a 
Hindoo  (where,  of  course,  the  women  were  strictly 
"  purdah  "),  was  usually  a  closed  book  to  Europeans. 

As  a  very  great  and  special  honour  the  Sirdar 
invited  me  to  "  tiffin  "  one  day,  when  I  was  included 
in  the  family  gathering  at  the  mid-day  meal,  at  which 
were  members  of  his  household  (only  male  of  course) , 
and  gorgeously  apparelled  and  very  stout  relations 
of  the  bridegroom.     They  reclined  on  divans  and 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  143 

partook  of  great  bowls  of  nourishment  with  avidity. 
This  appeared  to  consist  of  lumps  of  curried  meat, 
floating  in  an  oily  sea  of  "  ghee."  They  conveyed 
this  bilious,  amber-coloured  mixture  to  their  mouths 
strictly  by  rule  of  finger  and  thumb,  dispensing 
entirely  with  cutlery  of  any  kind. 

It  was  an  embarrassing  experience  for  me,  as 
with  the  exception  of  the  Sirdar  and  his  sons,  the 
rest  of  the  company  spoke  no  English — as  a  matter 
of  fact  their  table  activities  left  few  loopholes  for 
conversation.  Much  as  I  appreciated  the  honour 
paid  me  by  being  singled  out  for  this  somewhat 
intimate  inclusion  within  the  family  circle,  I  found 
myself  partaking  very  sparingly  of  all  the  rich  fare 
spread  out  before  me,  and  felt  intensely  relieved 
when  the  function  was  over. 

Our  tiny  hotel  was  a  considerable  distance  from 
Abdul  Huk's  abode,  but  he  placed  a  magnificent 
carriage  and  pair  entirely  at  our  service  during  the 
time  we  were  his  guests,  and  this  courtesy  he 
extended  to  us  even  after  the  wedding  was  over 
and  we  had  left  to  become  the  guests  of  Colonel  and 
Mrs.  Nevill — and  a  great  boon  it  was. 

I  really  was  not  sorry  to  leave  the  little  hotel. 
It  was  the  last  word  in  discomfort,  and  we  were 
expected  to  provide  our  own  food.  How  we  managed 
I  hardly  like  to  remember.  The  proprietor  was 
rarely  on  view  and  regarded  us  in  the  light  of  a 
nuisance.  He  was  not  far  wrong  in  one  respect — a 
most  important  one  in  India — we  were  without 
servants.  We  had  engaged  them  in  Bombay  ;  they 
had  packed  for  us  and  placed  the  luggage  on  the 
train  for  Hyderabad,  where  we  arrived  safely  with 


144        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

all  our  possessions  intact — but  alas  !  no  servants. 
They  had  decamped  without  a  word,  and  our 
servantless  condition  marred  our  welcome  wherever 
we  went. 

During  our  stay  we  were  entertained  at  the 
Service  Club,  at  Secunderabad,  a  stately  place,  lofty 
and  spacious  and  in  every  way  befitting  the  dignity 
and  requirements  of  one  of  the  largest  and  most 
important  military  stations  in  the  whole  of  India. 
It  was  there  I  met  Captain  L.  Hume,  of  the  Madras 
Lancers,  a  troop  of  Sikhs,  magnificent  in  stature  and 
equipment,  all  well  over  six  feet  in  height  and 
splendidly  mounted. 

As  I  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  make  a  study  of 
one  of  these  picturesque  warriors,  a  picked  man  was 
despatched  to  my  hotel  and  there  he  stood  by  his 
charger  while  I  made  a  careful  water-colour  drawing 
of  man  and  horse.  At  the  end  of  the  business,  feeling 
a  natural  desire  to  make  some  slight  acknowledgment 
of  the  services  the  man  had  rendered  me,  I  offered 
him  the  tip  I  felt  was  adequate.  He,  to  my  surprise, 
expressed  by  gesture  an  obviously  genuine  dis- 
inclination to  accept  the  proffered  pourboire,  coupled 
with  a  voluble  deprecation  of  any  suggestion  that 
my  well-meant  acknowledgment  was  desired.  I  was 
equally  insistent  and  forced  the  money  into  his  hand, 
whereupon  he  mounted  his  steed  and  rode  hastily 
away.  I  had  failed  to  gather  the  full  trend  of  his 
remarks — not  one  word  did  I  clearly  understand — 
and  he  was  equally  in  the  dark  in  regard  to  my 
innocent  intentions.  Imagine  my  feelings  of  horror 
and  dismay  on  learning  from  Captain  L.  Hume, 
with    whom    I    lunched    that    day,    that    all    his 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  145 

troopers  were  Sikh  gentlemen,  and  owned  their 
own  horses. 

Blathwayt  and  I  were  bidden  to  a  ball  given  by 
the  Welch  Regiment  at  Secunderabad.  The  Sirdar 
had  provided  a  special  carriage  for  us  in  order  that 
we  should  dash  up  to  the  function  with  a  clatter. 
During  dinner  Blathwayt  complained  of  feeling 
very  unwell — far  too  ill,  in  fact,  to  entertain  any  idea 
of  going  to  the  dance.  "  In  that  case,  my  dear 
fellow,  I  will  abandon  the  idea  too,  and  stay  to  look 
after  you,"  said  I. 

"  No,  that  won't  do,"  said  he,  "  the  fact  of  the 
matter  is  I  promised  to  call  at  Mrs.  So-and-So's 
bungalow  and  take  her  to  the  ball  in  our  carriage. 
So  you  must  take  her  to  the  dance  instead  of  me, 
for  she  will  be  all  dressed  up  and  waiting.  In  any 
case  it  is  much  better  for  you  to  take  my  place  as 
you  dance  well,  and  I  don't  dance  at  all." 

It  did  not  seem  a  very  attractive  programme. 
The  lady  was  expecting  Blathwayt,  who  was  an  old 
friend,  and  I  was  not  by  any  means  keen  to  attach 
myself  to  a  middle-aged  partner  for  whom  I  should 
be  more  or  less  responsible  the  whole  evening.  But 
there  it  was  ;  the  carriage  was  ordered  ;  the  lady 
would  be  waiting,  and  Blathwayt  was  too  unwell  to 
think  of  going,  so  it  was  up  to  me  to  play  the  little 
gentleman. 

Before  leaving  for  the  ball  I  impressed  upon 
Blathwayt  the  importance  of  supplying  the  Sirdar 
not  only  with  the  whereabouts  of  the  Welch  Regi- 
ment, but  also  with  the  address  of  the  lady's 
bungalow  where  I  was  to  call,  as  no  communication 
was  possible  between  the  Sirdar's  driver  and  myself 


146        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

— not  one  word  did  we  understand  of  each  other's 
language.  The  Sirdar  himself  saw  me  off  and 
assured  me  that  the  men  understood  perfectly  where 
they  were  to  go.  There  are  few  more  delightful 
sensations  than  being  driven  in  a  sumptuous  carriage 
drawn  by  a  pair  of  peerless  horses  at  a  spanking  pace 
through  the  mystery  and  wonder  of  an  Indian  night. 

Full  of  good  feeling  and  the  comfort  that  comes 
of  excellent  fare,  I  felt  in  no  hurry  to  arrive  any- 
where in  particular,  but  after  about  an  hour  of 
tearing  through  the  night  it  certainly  seemed  to  me 
that  we  should  be  nearing  our  destination.  I 
endeavoured  by  signs  to  convey  this  impression  to 
the  ebony  figure  in  gorgeous  native  livery  who  was 
driving.  He  mistook  my  display  of  energy  for  a 
sign  that  I  was  dissatisfied  with  the  pace  at  which 
we  were  travelling,  and  proceeded  to  urge  on  his 
steeds  to  a  perfectly  unreasonable  speed,  especially 
as  I  felt  more  and  more  convinced  that  we  must 
have  either  mistaken  the  road  or  that  the  black 
devils  on  the  box  had  designs  upon  me.  This  idea 
was  not  so  far-fetched  when  you  consider  that  we 
were  in  the  land  where  Thug  and  Dacoit  abound, 
and  what  gave  colour  to  this  idea  was  the  fact  that 
the  more  I  tried  to  stop  them  the  faster  they  drove. 

The  position  was  rapidly  becoming  desperate 
when  the  light  of  a  solitary  bungalow  appeared  in 
sight.  By  a  frantic  effort  I  induced  my  black-faced 
Jehu  to  pull  up  his  panting  horses  by  the  gates  of 
this  bungalow.  I  was  thankful  to  find  an  English- 
speaking  couple  who  were  just  preparing  to  retire 
for  the  night.  It  certainly  occasioned  them  some 
mild  surprise  to  receive  a  call  from  a  perfect  stranger 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  147 

at  that  hour.  I  told  them  briefly  the  predicament 
in  which  I  found  myself.  A  whisky  peg  was  pro- 
vided, and  my  kindly  new-found  host  proposed  that 
I  should  stay  the  night,  as  they  informed  me  that 
the  route  we  had  taken  was  in  precisely  the  opposite 
direction  to  that  leading  to  the  quarters  of  the 
Welch  Regiment.  I  explained  that  a  lady  was 
waiting  for  the  carriage  to  convey  her  to  the  dance, 
and  on  my  mentioning  her  name  he  said  he  knew 
exactly  where  she  lived,  and  as  I  persisted  in 
venturing  forth  again  into  the  night,  in  spite  of  the 
fact  that  the  ball  would  probably  be  over  by  the  time 
I  arrived,  he  very  kindly  gave  my  Jehu  most  minute 
instructions,  so  as  to  prevent  further  mishap,  and 
sent  me  off  full  of  good-nights  and  excellent  whisky. 

We  flew  back  on  the  wings  of  wild  horses,  picked 
up  Blathwayt's  "  old  flame  "  and  swooped  down  on 
the  ball  just  as  it  was  flickering  out.  But  it  was 
worth  it.  The  affair  was  gorgeously  staged — they 
certainly  know  how  to  do  these  things  in  India. 
The  ballroom  was  a  spacious  pavilion  supported 
by  great  white  pillars,  between  which  it  was 
open  to  the  purple  Indian  night,  cool  and  fragrant. 
The  gleaming  floor,  swung  on  chains,  made  the  most 
ideal  of  dancing  surfaces.  The  men  were  mostly  in 
white  and  gold.  Lord!  how  slim  and  smart  they 
looked.  I  was  the  only  black-bird  there.  The 
ladies,  mostly  young  and  mainly  beautiful,  were 
gowned  in  gaudy,  gossamer  films,  prismatic  with 
tints  stolen  from  a  rainbow. 

The  dancing  was  nearly  done,  but  I  was  in  time 
for  the  supper,  and  they  were  more  than  kind  and 
made  much  of  me.    The  vexatious  delay  in  arriving 


148        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

was  quite  forgotten,  and  I  was  sorry  to  take  my 
departure  at  an  hour  in  the  early  morning.  The  only 
dreg  in  my  cup  of  happiness  came  later,  when  I  was 
made  aware  of  the  fury  of  the  Sirdar  that  a  pair  of 
his  priceless  horses — the  pick  of  his  stable — had 
been  hacked  in  such  merciless  fashion. 

The  fortnight's  festivities  at  Hyderabad  finished 
with  the  final  ceremony  of  the  wedding  itself.  The 
bridegroom  returned  to  his  father's  house  after  the 
function,  which  of  course  we  were  not  privileged  to 
witness.  I  questioned  him  as  to  the  beauty  of  his 
bride,  and  he  informed  me  that  although  the 
marriage  had  actually  taken  place,  the  only  glimpse 
of  her  he  had  been  permitted  to  steal  was  the 
reflection  of  her  face  in  a  mirror  placed  on  the  floor 
beneath  a  curtain  which  separated  them  but  was 
slightly  raised  for  that  purpose. 

During  the  time  we  were  guests  of  the  Sirdar  he 
had  on  several  occasions  expressed  a  strong  desire 
to  have  a  portrait  of  himself.  I  was  all  the  more 
willing  to  undertake  this  project  as  Abdul  Huk  was 
a  most  excellent  subject  for  a  picture.  He  assured 
me  that  he  and  his  family  were  very  desirous  of 
possessing  a  permanent  record  of  his  personality, 
and  that  it  only  remained  to  decide  on  the  size  and 
style  of  the  proposed  picture.  I  pointed  out  that  as 
the  period  of  my  stay  in  India  was  drawing  to  a 
close  it  would  be  well  to  proceed  without  delay. 
"  Why  not  begin  to-day  ?  "  "  No,  to-morrow,"  he 
urged,  would  suit  him  better.  It  was  always 
to-morrow,  and  when  the  time  arrived  when  any 
extension  of  my  stay  in  Hyderabad  was  impossible, 
he  expressed  the  utmost  surprise. 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  149 

"  But  why  do  you  want  to  go  ?"  he  said,  "  I  fear 
you  are  not  having  a  pleasant  time  ?  " 

"  My  dear  Sirdar,"  I  repHed,  "  you  have  enter- 
tained us  right  royally,  and  done  everything  possible 
to  make  our  visit  one  which  will  always  remain  with 
us  as  a  delightful  memory.  But  unfortunately  our 
berths  have  been  booked  on  the  "  Peshawar,"  and 
she  sails  from  Bombay  for  China  on  a  certain  date. 
I  am  already  due  to  stay  with  Colonel  Nevill,  who 
commands  the  troops  of  the  Nizam,  and  whose 
portrait  I  am  given  to  understand  is  required." 

When  eventually  we  entrained  for  Bombay,  we 
found  he  had  given  instructions  that  as  the  train  was 
moving  off  a  case  of  champagne  was  to  be  pushed 
into  our  saloon,  "  for  the  journey  with  the  Sirdar's 
compliments."  It  was  very  thoughtful  and  kind  of 
him,  especially,  as  I  have  remarked  before,  he 
himself  never  partook  of  any  alcoholic  refreshment 
whatever. 

I  was  not  sorry  to  take  a  long  farewell  of  our 
sleeping  quarters.  They  were  the  sandiest,  sorriest, 
sun-scorched  last  word  in  discomfort  and  depression 
that  any  civilized  human  ever  inhabited.  But  there 
it  was,  the  only  thing  of  its  kind  in  that  district  where 
a  traveller  could  tarry  at  night,  unless  he  had  Anglo- 
Indian  friends  to  put  him  up. 

A  wonderful  little  pair  of  people  were  staying  at 
this  primitive  place  with  us.  The  man  had  been  in 
the  army,  afterwards  mining  in  South  Africa  with 
Barney  Barnato  ;  now  he  and  his  wife  travelled  all 
over  India  giving  a  duologue  entertainment  at  the 
various  regimental  theatres.  She  was  the  daughter 
of  a  Colonel  in  the  Indian  Army,  really  very  pretty, 


150        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE      ^ 

and  practised  upon  the  zither  all  day  long  in  this 
dreary  hotel.  She  also  did  a  skirt  dance  in  this 
show.  The  "takings"  must  have  been  microscopic, 
as  their  audience  was  almost  entirely  composed  of 
men  in  the  ranks.  It  was  really  rather  pathetic,  as 
Central  India  is  no  place  for  any  white  man  or  woman 
to  travel  in  unless  they  can  afford  to  provide  them- 
selves with  every  possible  comfort. 

Colonel  Nevill  occupied  a  great  house  of  the 
bungalow  pattern,  with  large  verandahs,  patrolled 
outside  by  sentries,  as  befitted  his  rank  of  com- 
mander of  the  troops  of  the  Nizam.  We  were 
received  by  Mrs.  Nevill,  whose  first  enquiry  was  : 
"  But  where  are  your  servants  ?  "  We  had  to 
confess  that  we  were  unprovided.  She  said  that  our 
servantless  condition  might  make  adequate  service 
very  difficult,  but  she  promised  to  do  her  best  for  us 
as  our  visit  was  to  be  of  limited  duration.  "  Though," 
as  she  naively  added,  "  our  last  visitor  came  for  four 
days,  and  stayed  four  years."  I  learned  subse- 
quently that  their  house  had  long  been  known  as 
the  "  Red  Lion  "  by  those  who  had  availed  them- 
selves of  the  hospitality  dispensed  so  graciously  by 
the  genial  host  and  hostess. 

Mrs.  Nevill  was  in  every  way  a  most  remarkable 
woman.  She  was  unusually  tall,  but  had  become 
rather  stout  through  living  a  sedentary  life  after 
having  been  accustomed  to  considerable  physical 
activity.  She  was  a  great  traveller  and  famous 
horse-woman  in  her  early  days.  As  a  bride  she  was 
with  Colonel  Nevill  when,  finding  no  room  for 
expansion  in  the  service  of  his  native  land,  he  had 
taken  a  commission  (as  many  another  restless  spirit 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  151 

did  in  those  days),  in  the  Austrian  Army,  and  was 
on  the  staff  of  the  force  which  occupied  various 
ItaUan  towns  during  the  war  between  Austria  and 
Italy. 

Her  father,  Charles  Lever,  was  the  famous  author 
of  many  novels  dealing  with  the  rollicking  side  of 
Irish  life—"  Charles  O'Malley  "  and  "  Harry  Lorre- 
quer,"  were  all  the  rage  when  I  was  a  boy.  He  was  a 
man  of  great  distinction  in  his  day,  and  filled 
positions  of  some  importance  in  the  Consulate  or 
Embassy  of  Continental  cities.  Mrs.  Nevill  inherited 
much  of  her  father's  vivacious  force  and  sense  of 
humour.  She  presented  a  somewhat  masculine 
appearance,  which  her  habit  of  smoking  a  monstrous 
Trichinopoli  cigar  on  all  occasions  did  not  tend  to 
diminish  ;  and  her  courage  was  on  a  par  with  her 
remarkable  personal  appearance. 

She  and  the  Colonel  were  riding  about  dusk  one 
evening  and  heard  shouts  as  of  people  in  distress. 
They  rode  in  the  direction  of  the  noise  and  found 
some  poor  village  folk  who  had  been  into  Hyderabad, 
to  sell  their  produce,  were  being  robbed  and  all  but 
murdered  by  a  band  of  Dacoits,  with  which  this 
region  was  infested.  Mrs,  Nevill  and  the  Colonel 
rode  bang  at  the  mob,  and  separated  the  robbers 
from  their  victims. 

"  Can  you  hold  them  while  I  fetch  my  Africans  ?  " 
(the  troop  of  Nubians  commanded  by  the  Colonel), 
said  Nevill. 

"  Yes,"  replied  Mrs.  Nevill,  "  if  any  man-jack  of 
them  tries  to  escape  I'll  ride  him  down."  And 
straightway  she  took  up  a  position  commanding  the 
narrow  bridge,  which  was  their  only  way  of  escape, 


152        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

and  not  a  man  of  them  ventured  to  approach  within 
range  of  her  horse's  hoofs. 

Back  came  the  Colonel  with  a  batch  of  his 
redoubtable  Nubians,  and  they  captured  every 
robber  in  the  crowd.  These  had  been  a  nuisance  in 
Hyderabad  for  a  long  period,  and  Mrs.  Nevill  and 
the  Colonel  received  the  thanks  of  the  Government 
of  India  for  their  skill  and  daring  in  ridding  the 
district  of  the  most  dangerous  band  of  Dacoits  in 
the  country. 

There  was  no  tropical  depression  about  Mrs.  Nevill. 
Cheerfulness  and  activity  radiated  from  her,  and 
though  she  had  lived  in  this  remote  place — far  away 
in  a  Native  State — without  going  home  for  thirty 
years,  she  showed  no  sign  of  pining  for  the  brilliant 
social  life  by  which  she  had  been  surrounded  in  her 
youth,  first  as  the  daughter  of  the  famous  Charles 
Lever,  and  then  as  Colonel  Nevill's  bride  in  the 
gayest  capital  in  Europe.  Both  she  and  Colonel 
Nevill  were  brilliant  conversationalists,  and  Mrs. 
Nevill  told  some  good  stories  about  her  father. 

She  was  riding  with  him  one  day  through  a  street 
in  Dublin  when  her  father  indicated  a  man  coming 
towards  them  and  said  :  "  Take  a  good  look  at  him, 
and  I  will  tell  you  who  he  is."  The  little  mite  stared 
at  the  man  with  all  her  eyes,  at  which  he  seemed 
much  amused,  and  taking  off  his  hat  made  her  a 
deep  bow,  which  she  returned. 

"  That  is  Daniel  O'Connell,"  said  her  father.  She 
was  so  affected  by  this  mark  of  his  attention  that 
she  became  converted  to  his  cause  and  upheld  his 
views  for  some  weeks  in  spite  of  her  father's 
strenuous  bias  in  the  opposite  direction. 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  153 

Some  time  afterwards  the  same  subject  was  very 
forcibly  presented  to  them.  Charles  Lever,  accom- 
panied by  his  little  son,  aged  nine,  and  Mrs.  Nevill, 
then  a  girl  of  thirteen,  were  in  the  shop  of  Curran 
the  publisher.  In  Phoenix  Park  O'Connell  was 
addressing  a  great  political  gathering,  and  in  the 
course  of  his  speech  denounced  Charles  Lever  as  an 
un-Irish  Irishman.  While  Lever  and  his  children 
were  at  the  publisher's  an  officer  of  the  R.I.C. 
entered  the  shop  and  warned  Lever  that  he  would 
not  be  responsible  for  his  safety  or  even  for  his  life  if 
he  ventured  into  the  public  streets  without  adequate 
police  escort  until  the  crowd  had  dispersed.  Lever, 
turning  to  his  children,  said  :  "  What  shall  we  do  ?  " 
They  replied :  "  Let  us  ride  home,  we're  not 
frightened."  So  off  they  rode  through  the  crowded 
streets. 

They  progressed  safely  enough  until  approaching 
a  densely  massed  bridge,  across  which  they  failed  to 
make  a  passage.  The  mob  commenced  booing  and 
hooting  and  declined  to  make  way,  and  things  began 
to  look  very  ugly.  Upon  this.  Lever,  thinking  of 
his  children,  rose  in  his  stirrups,  and  shouted  lustily : 
"  Long  live  Daniel  O'Connell !  "  There  was  a  pause, 
then  suddenly  Lever's  little  boy  raised  his  tiny 
whip,  and  bringing  it  down  with  a  resounding  smack 
shouted  in  a  fury  :   "  Damn  Daniel  O'Connell  !  " 

This  might  have  cost  them  their  lives,  instead  of 
which  it  happened  luckily  to  tickle  the  sense  of 
humour  rarely  absent  from  a  race  like  the  Irish. 
The  boy's  audacity  raised  a  shout  of  laughter,  and 
the  Levers  were  allowed  to  proceed  to  their  home 
unmolested. 


154       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

A  dramatic  and  unrehearsed  incident  occurred 
during  the  time  Colonel  Nevill  was  with  the  Austrian 
Army  of  Occupation  in  Italy.  At  a  gala  performance 
at  the  Opera  the  curtain,  which  should  have  risen 
on  the  opening  chorus,  revealed  instead  the  fully 
armed  force  of  a  famous  band  of  real  brigands.  The 
chieftain  strode  forward  to  the  foothghts,  and 
commanded  the  crowded  audience  to  remain  seated 
as  all  the  exits  were  shut  and  closely  guarded. 
There  was  nothing  to  fear,  however,  he  said,  as  after 
collecting  and  handing  over  to  him  a  sufficient  sum 
of  money  and  jewels  as  ransom,  he  and  his  merry 
men  would  quit  the  theatre  and  allow  the  perform- 
ance to  take  place.  By  some  mysterious  means, 
however,  news  of  the  daring  exploit  had  reached  the 
garrison.  Colonel  Nevill  marched  his  troops  down 
to  the  theatre  and  on  to  the  stage,  surrounded  the 
brigands  and  arrested  the  chieftain  and  his  men. 

Mrs.  Nevill,  like  all  good  ladies,  dearly  loved  a  bit 
of  scandal.  She  was  telling  me  rather  a  spicy  story 
of  an  officer  in  one  of  the  regiments  at  Secunderabad 
who  had  got  himself  into  a  serious  scrape.  It 
appeared  that  he  had  taken  out  in  his  buggy  one  of 
the  young  ladies  of  the  station,  and  on  her  return 
she  complained  that  during  the  drive  the  young  man 
had  so  far  forgotten  himself  as  to  attempt  to  kiss 
her.  For  this  offence  he  had  to  leave  his  regiment. 
I  remarked  that  this  seemed  rather  a  severe  punish- 
ment, as  even  according  to  the  lady  the  offence 
complained  of  was  not  actually  committed. 

"  My  dear  Mr.  Ward,  that  is  just  where  he  was 
most  to  blame,"  said  Mrs.  Nevill.  "  I  think  he  richly 
deserved  all  he  got.     Had  he  been  successful  you 


BOMBAY  AND  HYDERABAD  155 

can  take  my  word  for  it  no  one  would  ever  have  been 
any  the  wiser." 

There  was  some  talk  of  my  painting  the  portrait 
of  the  Nizam  of  Hyderabad,  but  alas  !  this  project 
was  nipped  in  the  bud  by  the  occurrence  of  a  tragic 
complication  in  the  tangled  mesh  of  his  domestic 
circle.  A  much  married  man  already  (there  were 
three  thousand  women  in  his  zenana),  he  had  fallen 
in  love  with  a  dancing  girl,  and  declared  his  intention 
of  nominating  as  his  heir  the  child  of  this  union. 
His  other  wives,  who  looked  askance  at  the  usurper, 
promptly  adopted  measures  to  frustrate  this  new- 
fangled fancy  of  their  lord  and  master.  They  do  not 
stick  at  trifles  in  a  Native  State,  and  this  menace  to 
their  own  ambitious  schemes  was  not  to  be  tolerated 
for  a  moment.  The  boy  passed  away — poisoned — 
the  Nizam  was  prostrated  with  grief — and  that 
portrait  of  his  Royal  Highness  has  still  to  be  painted. 

I  would  that  I  were  able  to  tell  you  how  wonderful 
Hyderabad  really  is,  especially  at  sunset.  Most 
descriptive  writers  specialize  in  sunsets.  There  was 
a  famous  novelist  who  was  all  the  rage  in  the 
'eighties,  William  Black,  author  of  "  A  Daughter  of 
Heth,"  etc.,  who  covered  page  after  page  with 
sunset  stuff  as  seen  in  Scotland  by  a  loyal  son  of 
that  rugged  land,  but  that  did  not  prevent  him 
from  taking  up  his  abode  in  a  very  fine  house  in 
Brighton,  where  he  could  observe  the  sunset  in  great 
comfort.  He  was  credited  also  with  a  departure 
from  the  conventional  book  type  of  beauty,  the 
majority  of  his  heroines  being  irregular  of  feature, 
sprinkled  with  freckles.  The  scheme  of  his  crazy 
skywork  was  dictated  from  visions  of  a  sun  sinking 


156        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

to  rest  over  the  roof  of  a  Kemp  Town  boarding- 
house  ;  the  love  of  his  life  was  for  no  snub-nosed, 
freckled  gawk — his  heart  went  out  to  the  stately, 
statuesque  beauty  of  Mary  Anderson.  Her  star  was 
at  that  time  at  its  zenith,  and  when  she  eventually 
married  and  retired  from  the  stage,  in  the  fullness  of 
her  fame  and  exquisite  beauty,  to  live  her  own  life 
in  a  tiny  village  in  Worcestershire,  poor  William 
Black  took  to  his  bed  and  all  but  died  of  grief.  He 
was  nursed  by  a  devoted  wife,  full  of  sweet  sympathy 
for  her  love-sick  husband. 

I  can  see  Mary  Anderson  now,  as  she  swept  into 
the  Long  Gallery  of  the  Royal  Academy  on  a  gala 
night,  surrounded  by  a  throng  of  distinguished  men, 
all  vieing  with  each  other  in  paying  tribute  to  a 
queen  of  beauty  who  was  entirely  unspoilt  by  the 
adulation  and  applause  showered  upon  her  brief 
but  brilliant  stage  career. 

This,  however,  has  little  or  nothing  to  do  with  the 
sunsets  you  may  see  from  Golconda — that  vast, 
desolate  plain  all  aflame  with  the  glory  of  the  dying 
day,  drawing  its  dusky  shroud  around  the  tombs  of 
the  kings. 


CHAPTER  XI 

EAST  AND   WEST 

MUCH  remained  to  be  seen  in  Hyderabad. 
There  was  the  ride  through  the  maze 
of  the  native  city,  crowded  with 
fantastic  colour,  so  dense  that  you 
must  make  the  journey  aloft  on  a  great  elephant. 
I  was  warned  on  no  account  to  embark  alone  upon 
an  inspection  of  the  intricacies  of  the  native  bazaar, 
but  finding  myself  in  its  vicinity  during  one  of  my 
early  morning  walks  the  temptation  was  too  strong 
to  be  resisted,  especially  as  I  fancied  myself  in  need 
of  a  new  pugaree  for  my  solar  topee. 

Wandering  through  the  labyrinth  of  the  lanes  of 
little  shops,  I  handed  my  solar  topee  to  a  native 
and  attempted  to  describe  my  wants  in  dumb-show, 
as  I  did  not  possess  a  vocabulary  in  Hindustani  to 
meet  the  exigencies  of  the  situation.  I  seated  myself 
on  the  tiny  counter  under  the  shelter  of  the  awning, 
and  awaited  the  execution  of  my  small  commission 
with  all  the  patience  possible  under  the  circum- 
stances. It  appeared,  however,  that  I  had  applied 
at  the  wrong  emporium,  and  my  pith  helmet,  without 
which  I  was  held  a  prisoner,  was  promptly  spirited 
away  to  some  distant  establishment  where  they 
dealt  in  pugarees.     Meanwhile  there  was  I  perched 

157 


158        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

on  my  counter  wondering  what  their  game  was. 
Deprived  of  the  protection  of  my  pith  helmet  it 
was  certain  sunstroke  to  venture  out  of  the  shade  of 
my  shop,  for  the  terrible,  white,  hot  sun  was  already 
high  in  the  heavens. 

Dancing  dervishes  made  a  devilish  din  in  a  ring 
around  me,  and  all  manner  of  queer  warriors  carrying 
more  pistols  and  guns  of  archaic  pattern  than  any 
native  aUve  could  have  been  taught  to  load  or  fire, 
came  and  leered  at  me.  Being  powerless  to  move  I 
had  to  put  as  good  a  face  as  possible  on  the  silly 
situation  until  my  solar  topee  was  at  length  restored 
to  me.  I  have  been  told  that  in  China  a  good  many 
years  ago  when  Europeans  ventured  out  tiger- 
hunting  the  hostile  Chinks  did  not  find  it  necessary 
to  murder  them;  they  just  took  away  their  pith 
head  and  neck  coverings  and  His  Majesty  the  Sun 
did  the  rest. 

It  is  unwise  to  wander  alone  in  strange  places, 
and  a  fool  trick  to  part  with  your  head  covering  in 
tropical  countries  under  any  pretext  whatever, 
and  as  I  sat  there  in  that  shop  I  felt  a  burst  of  relief 
when  at  last  I  espied  a  native  boy  running  down  the 
cobbled  lane,  carrying  in  his  hand  my  solar  topee 
in  all  the  glory  of  a  new  pugaree,  for  it  brought  me 
freedom  to  escape  from  the  shade  of  my  tiny  prison. 
It  was  getting  towards  midday  and  almost  too  hot 
to  bear,  before  I  reached  the  shelter  of  our  ram- 
shackle hotel. 

This  was  in  Central  India  during  the  year  1896,  and 
yet,  eighteen  years  later,  the  summer  of  1914,  caught 
me  committing  the  same  folly — wandering  alone, 
climbing  the  trackless  heights  of  the  Rocky  Mountains. 


EAST  AND  WEST  159 

We  were  a  party  of  half  a  dozen  travellers  encamped 
by  the  Radium  Hot  Springs,  a  few  thousand  feet 
up  from  Sinclair  in  the  Columbia  Valley.  It  was 
a  wonderful  place,  a  veritable  "  Pool  of  Siloam," 
full  of  all  but  boiling  water,  so  hot  that  it  would 
cook  an  egg  in  a  few  minutes,  and  a  most  excellent 
toddy  it  made  if  mixed  with  a  modicum  of  pre-war 
whisky.  All  around  us  soaring  into  the  sky  were  the 
vast  heights  of  the  Rockies,  reached  by  hidden 
tracks  known  only  to  the  Indian  trappers  and  local 
ranchers. 

A  road-builder,  who  passed  through  our  camp, 
enthused  to  me  of  the  wonders  to  be  seen  from  some 
heights  overlooking  our  camp,  above  which  I  had 
observed  a  great  eagle  in  flight  from  time  to  time. 
He  described  the  break  in  the  undergrowth  two 
miles  along  the  valley  where  the  creek  was  crossed 
by  the  track,  and  said  that  by  following  this  winding 
way  up  through  the  forest  I  should  emerge  after  a 
few  hours  into  an  opening  among  the  great  trees — 
myriads  of  them  rose  aloft  three  hundred  feet  into 
the  fa  r  sky — and  once  there  I  should  be  rewarded 
by  a  view  the  like  of  which  few  eyes  had  ever  rested 
upon. 

The  daily  duties  of  working  our  little  camp  were 
shared  among  us,  and  it  fell  to  my  lot,  being  a 
naturally  early  riser,  to  quit  my  tent  before  dawn, 
collect  the  wood,  Ught  a  fire  and  prepare  the  early 
breakfast  for  the  small  community,  after  which  I 
usually  wandered  off  with  my  sketching  things 
until  tiffin  time.  But  the  road-builder's  story  had 
kindled  all  my  smouldering  desire  for  discovering 
what  lay  beyond  the  immediate  range  of  hills  by 


i6o        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

which  we  were  surrounded.  And  so  it  fell  out  that 
after  early  tea  one  morning  I  wandered  away  in 
search  of  the  break  in  the  brushwood  near  where  the 
track  crossed  the  creek. 

Having  found  what  appeared  to  resemble  the 
sort  of  rough  trail  described  by  my  road-builder, 
it  seemed  only  natural  that  I  should  venture  a 
short  distance  as  a  trial  trip  prior  to  embarking 
upon  the  main  expedition  which  should  be  reserved 
for  some  future  occasion.  But  the  wanderlust  had 
taken  command  of  my  soul,  and  with  no  wise 
counsellor  at  my  elbow  to  warn  me  that  so  far  and 
no  farther  should  I  venture  until  more  suitably 
equipped  for  the  undertaking,  I  went  on  and  on.  The 
track  had  disappeared  within  quite  a  short  distance 
from  the  starting  point,  and  I  was  soon  winding 
my  way  up  in  great  spirals.  One  great  silent  hill 
after  another,  terrace  upon  terrace  of  them,  stretched 
out  north,  south,  east  and  west,  like  a  sinister 
counterpane  spreading  itself  out  to  smother  your 
egress  from  their  undulations. 

Aloft,  I  soon  could  see  the  glistening  silver  of  the 
everlasting  snows,  and  it  was  from  here  that  I  could 
appreciate  the  majesty  of  the  Sinclair  Ridge,  far 
away  over  the  Columbia  Valley.  There  was  every- 
thing to  tempt  you  still  higher  and  higher.  You 
were  monarch  of  all  the  mountains.  The  solitary 
sound  was  the  tinkle  of  the  tiny  creek  far  away 
down  on  the  floor  of  the  world  below.  Those  great 
hills  must  be  crowded  with  hidden  life  ;  you  knew 
that  it  must  be  so.  Now  and  then,  you  were  half 
ashamed  to  catch  yourself  casting  a  backward, 
furtive  look,  lest  some  wild,  swift,  four-footed  thing, 


EAST  AND  WEST  i6i 

with  padded  hoof  were  steahng  noiselessly  in  your 
wake  to  take  you  unawares.  But  the  silence !  It  was 
the  solemnity  of  that  vast  silence  which  filled  you 
with  wonder  as  to  how  it  came  about  that  so  large 
a  world  should  be  left  with  no  sign  of  anything 
human  ever  having  been  there  at  any  time  through 
the  ages.    A  World  to  Let  ! 

Seized  with  an  absorbing  desire  to  reach  an 
altitude  commanding  a  view  of  the  range  of  countless 
crags  encircling  me  on  every  side,  I  hurried  on,  and 
in  my  haste  grew  a  little  reckless.  Soon,  scrambling 
along  a  ridge  of  rock,  I  was  held  up  by  the  first 
real  diihculty  in  my  day's  climb.  I  discovered  a 
formidable  gap  which  must  be  crossed — a  yawning 
abyss,  the  mere  sight  of  which  turned  me  dizzy  and 
faint.  By  a  fortunate  chance  the  wall  of  rock  which 
I  should  have  to  negotiate  in  order  to  cross  that 
chasm  did  not  incline  outwards.  Luckily,  also,  I 
was  in  possession  of  a  stout  stick  with  a  strong 
metal  ferrule,  with  which  I  was  able  to  scrape  a  sort 
of  ridge  in  the  rock  to  act  as  a  foothold  for  the  very 
few  steps  separating  me  from  safety.  Forcing 
myself  to  visuahse  almost  anything  rather  than  the 
nerve-racking  business  before  me,  I  eventually 
summoned  enough  presence  of  mind  to  carry  me 
over  the  edge  of  that  bottomless  pit. 

From  there  the  ascent  was  easy  and  my  eyes  were 
gladdened  by  the  most  glorious  vision.  Around  me 
lay  all  the  hills  of  heaven,  and  below  the  Columbia 
River  wound  its  way  into  eternity.  Only  this  and 
that  awful  silence.  It  was  really  rather  difficult  to 
tear  oneself  away,  but,  clad  only  in  a  flannel  shirt 
and  a  pair  of  slacks  stuffed  into  canvas-topped, 


i62       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

rope-soled  boots,  without  food  or  drink,  and  no 
tobacco,  it  was  high  time  to  make  for  the  camp, 
which  was  a  long  way  off.  I  knew  if  I  did  not  reach 
it  before  dark  I  should  be  in  trouble.  The  daytime 
was  hot,  over  loo  in  the  shade,  but  the  nights  were 
freezing  cold  and  unbearable  without  plenty  of 
warm  clothing.  McLaughlin,  the  Irish  lad,  acting 
as  lackey  in  our  camp  kitchen,  once  lost  a  friend  of 
his  in  those  parts.  They  were  out  on  a  survey  of 
sorts,  and  a  reward  was  offered  for  the  recovery  of 
the  body.  Being  a  practical  sort  of  fellow, 
McLaughlin  went  off  alone,  not  wishing  to  share 
the  reward  with  anyone  else.  "  I  brought  him  in 
all  right,"  he  said,  "  he  was  so  stiff  and  dry  and  hard 
that  I  could  leave  him  standing  up  in  a  corner  at 
nights,  and  he  was  quite  hght  to  bring  along.  I 
delivered  him  and  got  the  money." 

With  no  trace  of  any  track  I  had  only  the  sun 
to  act  as  guide  in  the  way  of  direction.  Slithering 
down  a  mountain  side  is  almost  as  arduous  as 
making  the  ascent.  You  go  gaily  along,  hoping 
for  the  best  of  luck  in  not  finding  yourself  face  to 
face  with  an  impasse  forcing  you  to  retrace  your 
steps  in  search  of  a  safer  way  home.  A  stout  pair 
of  thick  leather  gloves  fitting  well  over  the  wrist  saved 
me  from  disaster  many  times  that  day.  They 
enabled  me  to  lay  hold  of  anything  without  risk  of 
tearing  the  skin  from  my  hands. 

The  foothold  was  of  the  flimsiest,  but  my  leather 
gauntlets  were  my  salvation.  Soon  a  great  ridge 
of  boulders  impeded  my  progress,  but  from  the  base 
of  one  of  them  a  stoutish  cedar  appeared  to  be 
growing,  which  promised  to  be  a  real  assistance. 


EAST  AND  WEST  163 

enabling  me  to  lower  myself  down  the  flat  side  of 
the  rock  against  which  it  grew.  Flinging  one  arm 
around  this  support  I  leant  my  full  weight  upon  it. 
How  was  I  to  know  that  the  tree  was  rotten  at  its 
root  ?  It  snapped  with  a  crack  like  a  pipe  stem — 
down  it  went,  hurling  me  into  the  ravine  below. 
Crash  !  Bang  !  Flung  from  rock  to  rock.  Should 
I  ever  stop  falling  ?  I  was  like  a  fourteen  stone 
shuttlecock  being  tossed  about  from  one  boulder 
to  another,  bruised  by  these  grim  battledores. 
I  handed  them  off  with  all  the  skill  I  could  summon, 
intensified  as  it  must  ever  be  when  faced  with  sudden 
peril — but  the  pace  was  too  hot.  I  was  beaten  at 
last  by  an  awful  crash  on  the  side  of  the  head. 

When  I  "  came  to,"  I  was  quite  a  long  time  lying 
there  before  I  could  make  up  my  mind  which  bone 
in  my  body  had  been  left  unbroken.  I  was  bleeding 
from  the  head  and  both  legs.  With  some  surprise 
I  found  I  was  able  to  raise  myself  into  a  sitting 
posture  from  which  I  could  examine  the  condition 
of  my  hmbs.  All  things  have  their  compensation  : 
as  a  support  for  varicose  veins,  my  legs  were  heavily 
bandaged  from  the  foot  to  well  above  the  knee. 
This  had  saved  me.  One  crack  on  the  inside  of  the 
right  leg  had  really  fractured  one  of  the  bones,  but 
it  was  held  in  position  by  the  blessed  bandages,  the 
other  bone  acting  as  a  spUnt. 

Somehow  the  sun  seemed  to  be  in  a  different  position 
in  the  sky  from  that  in  which  it  was  when  I  fell.  From 
that  I  judged  that  at  least  three  hours  must  have 
elapsed  since  the  moment  of  that  final  smash,  and 
I  awoke  to  the  fact  that  there  was  no  time  to  be  lost. 
Even  if  I  were  fortunate  in  finding  my  way  it  would 


i64       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

take  me  at  least  four  hours  to  rejoin  my  friends  in 
the  camp.  If  darkness  intervened,  I  could  certainly 
pass  the  night  in  the  mountains,  but  minus  covering 
of  any  sort  or  kind,  the  cold  would  quickly  make  an 
end  of  me,  and  my  friends  would  wonder  what  had 
happened,  for  what  was  left  of  me  might  never  be 
found  in  a  hundred  years. 

Entirely  at  a  loss  as  to  the  precise  course  to  follow, 
my  instinct  told  me  that  a  trail  of  shingly  stones, 
out  of  which  every  trace  of  vegetation  had  been 
washed,  must  at  some  time  or  other  have  been  a 
watercourse,  which,  if  followed,  should  eventually 
lead  me  at  some  point  to  the  creek  which  flowed 
through  our  camp. 

It  was  a  very  weary  Edwin  Ward  that  limped 
into  his  tent  about  nine  o'clock  that  night.  They 
brought  me  some  Bovril.  Whisky  was  what  I 
wanted,  but  the  nursing  sister,  who  was  one  of  our 
party,  said,  "  No."  It  was  probably  mainly  a  case 
of  concussion. 

An  experienced  engineer,  named  Anderson,  who 
was  staying  in  the  camp,  making  a  survey,  told  me 
afterwards  that  though  he  had  Uved  in  the  mountains 
for  the  last  twenty-five  years,  nothing  would  induce 
Mm  to  embark  upon  a  trip  like  mine  alone.  No 
one  with  any  experience  would  entertain  the  thought 
of  such  a  thing  for  a  moment.  In  the  mountains 
anything  might  happen,  and  you  must  have  company. 
But  in  fifty  years  I  have  found  precious  few  people 
who  could  be  called  even  possible  as  companions 
for  such  an  expedition.  The  only  incomparable 
one  was  himself  the  pioneer  in  this  very  visit  to  the 
Radium  Hot  Springs. 


EAST  AND  WEST  165 

Twenty-five  years  before  I  had  painted  the 
portrait  of  St.  John  Harmsworth  in  breeches  and 
brown  riding-boots.  He  was  far  and  away  the  most 
attractive  young  man  I  had  ever  met.  It  was  his 
last  term  at  Oxford,  but  he  was  quite  unlike  any 
undergraduate  of  my  acquaintance.  There  was 
no  game  at  which  he  did  not  excel.  He  was  captain 
of  his  college  soccer  team,  although  a  chill,  con- 
tracted after  winning  a  practice  match  against 
Preston  North  End,  robbed  him  of  his  "  Blue." 
At  lawn  tennis  he  might,  had  that  been  his  ambition, 
easily  have  become  a  champion,  for  not  only  was 
he  the  swiftest  thing  on  two  feet  I  ever  saw,  but  he 
was  possessed  of  extraordinary  power  in  the  shoulders, 
forearm  and  wrist,  with  a  pair  of  the  cleverest 
hands.  There  was  nothing  with  a  ball  that  he  could 
not  do.  The  only  really  athletic  member  of  a  very 
large  family,  St.  John  Harmsworth  was  gifted  with 
a  swiftness  of  vision  and  a  sense  of  touch  quite 
uncanny  in  its  power  and  delicacy,  and  was  the  finest 
example  of  the  cultured,  athletic  young  Englishman 
it  has  ever  been  my  good  fortune  to  meet. 

But  super-excellent  as  he  was  at  all  these  things, 
he  took  a  pure,  boyish  delight  in  the  game  for  its 
own  sake.  He  was  far  too  wise  to  waste  the  sweets 
of  life  in  winning  championships.  Far  rather  would 
he  play  "  snob-cricket  "  with  a  few  cronies  on  a 
lawn  than  figure  in  an  eleven  at  Lords.  Unlike  most 
other  people  excelling  at  games,  he  took  the  greatest 
delight  in  long  rambles  over  the  Downs,  without 
gun,  rod  or  "  pottering  "  iron — "  they  must  have 
an  object,  just  as  if  all  the  wonders  of  sky,  cliff  and 
sea  were  not  enough  " — also  he  would  get  up  at 

M 


i66       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

sunrise,  the  best  of  all  times.  This  began  our 
friendship. 

And  yet — a  miserable  motor-car  crushed  all  this 
splendid  manhood  out  of  action,  just  as  he  arrived 
at  the  zenith  of  his  powers,  physical  and  mental. 

Instead  of  meekly  resigning  himself  to  the  fate 
of  a  confirmed  invalid  with  all  its  attendant  and 
endless  limitation,  he  faced  the  problem  of  his  new 
existence  with  dauntless  courage,  carrying  on  the 
control  of  a  great  world-wide  industry  in  the  pro- 
duction and  distribution  of  Perrier  Water. 

Prior  to  his  lamentable  accident  he  had  been 
sent  to  France  by  his  brother,  Lord  Northcliffe, 
to  qualify  for  an  important  post  on  the  Paris 
"  Daily  Mail."  It  was  during  this  period,  occupied 
in  perfecting  his  knowledge  of  the  French  language 
that  in  company  with  his  tutor.  Professor  Methol, 
he  paid  a  visit  as  a  short  holiday  to  Nimes.  It 
was  then  he  first  made  the  discovery  of  the  purity 
and  excellence  of  the  Sparkling  Water  known  then 
locally  as  "  Vergeze,"  produced  at  a  village  of  that 
name  by  a  Dr.  Perrier  who  also  ran  a  small  hydro 
to  exploit  the  healing  properties  of  the  baths 
supplied  from  the  famous  springs  known  as  "  Les 
Bouillens." 

In  an  incredibly  short  time  St.  John  Harmsworth 
had  acquired  an  option  on  the  business  ;  designed 
a  new  bottle  and  label ;  christened  it  Perrier  Water, 
and  by  the  exercise  of  fierce  energy  flung  its  fame 
wide  to  every  quarter  of  the  civilized  world. 

In  1913  I  visited  Aigues  Mortes,  an  ancient 
walled  city  on  the  shores  of  the  Mediterranean, 
where  he  had  installed  his  bottle  works — the  last 


Si  .   ]()IIN    11  AKMSW  DWl  11. 
l'"roMi  picture  painted  In   Hilwin  A    W'anl  ioxhiliitfii  in  RovmI  Ar;uK'my). 


EAST  AND  WEST  167 

word  in  that  class  of  industry.  Lord  Northcliffe, 
who  was  one  of  the  party,  turning  to  me,  said  : 
"  This  is  an  achievement  to  be  proud  of  even  were 
it  the  work  of  a  man  '  on  his  feet ' — but  for  a  young 
man  in  the  helpless  condition  of  my  brother,  it  is 
little  short  of  marvellous." 


CHAPTER  XII 

JAPAN  I 

FREEDOM  and  solitude  are  hard  things 
to  find.  I  have  sought  them  vainly  even 
in  the  Egyptian  desert.  Prepared  somewhat 
for  a  little  Arabian  interference  when  in 
proximity  to  the  great  Pyramids,  I  was  horrified 
at  the  hordes  of  turbaned  Bedouins  who  tussled 
and  fought  for  the  privilege  of  possessing  me  and  all 
but  laid  violent  hands  upon  me,  so  strenuous  was 
their  desire  to  guide  my  faltering  footsteps.  I  was 
compelled  to  accept  the  situation  from  which  there 
was  no  earthly  chance  of  escape.  Having  engaged 
the  warrior  who  won  the  competition  which  raged 
around  my  unfortunate  person,  I  meekly  agreed  to 
belong  absolutely  to  him,  body  and  soul,  but  on 
one  condition — that  all  the  other  guides  and  all 
their  donkeys  should  be  dissuaded  from  trampling 
upon  or  otherwise  molesting  me. 

It  was  not  easy  to  induce  him  to  allow  me  to 
make  a  sketching  expedition  unattended,  and  how 
right  he  was  I  realized  the  moment  his  protecting 
arm  was  withdrawn.  There  sprang  out  of  the  sands 
of  the  desert  a  fresh  swarm  of  vigorous  ruffians 
who  insisted  upon  mounting  guard.  I  was  reduced 
to  the  necessity  of  including  them  in  the  sketch  as 

1 68 


JAPAN  169 

they  not  only  refused  point-blank  to  get  out  of  the 
way,  but  insisted  that  it  was  their  business  to  enforce 
the  principle  that  no  tourist  should  ever  be  allowed 
to  experience  the  sensation  of  being,  even  temporarily, 
without  the  luxury  of  a  guide  in  the  solitude  of  their 
desert. 

Not  being  at  all  fond  of  "  personally  conducted  " 
touring  of  any  sort  or  kind,  I  love  to  find  my 
own  way  even  by  losing  it,  and  I  seem  to  have 
no  sort  of  luck  with  guides,  professional  or 
otherwise. 

After  leaving  India  on  my  tour  of  the  East  I 
went  on  to  Japan.  Arriving  in  Tokio  in  the  spring 
of  1897  (if  you  ever  visit  Japan  mind  you  get  there 
in  the  blossom  time)  the  only  personal  letter  of 
introduction  I  had  brought  with  me  was  one  to 
Professor  W.  K.  Burton,  who,  according  to  popular 
report  among  the  natives,  so  I  was  gravely  informed, 
had  come  out  to  Japan  as  Professor  of  Sanitary 
Engineering  to  the  University  of  Tokio,  although 
for  personal  convenience  all  he  seemed  to  require 
was  an  open  window.  He  certainly  was  most 
eccentric  in  all  he  did  but  attractive  beyond  the 
common,  beloved  by  the  Japs,  and  held  in  high 
esteem  by  all  members  of  the  Legation  including 
Sir  Ernest  Satow,  Sir  Gerard  Lowther,  Ernest 
Parlett  and  Captain  Brinkley — all  men  of  the  highest 
culture  and  distinguished  record. 

Burton  himself,  apparently  the  most  absent- 
minded  man  ever  marooned  in  the  Far  East,  was 
accomplished  in  many  directions  quite  apart  from 
the  practice  of  his  calling.  His  "  Handbook  on 
Photography  "  is  still  used  and  regarded  as  a  classic 


170       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

although  thirty  years  have  witnessed  immense 
advancement  in  that  wonderful  science. 

Shortly  after  my  arrival  I  duly  called  upon  the 
Professor  and  presented  my  letter  of  introduction. 
He  lived  a  little  way  out  of  the  city  in  a  bungalow 
with  his  Japanese  wife.  In  common  with  many 
others  of  the  foreign  professors  of  the  University 
of  that  period,  he  had  taken  unto  himself  a  girl 
of  the  coolie  class  "  without  benefit  of  clergy,"  but 
a  few  years  afterwards  a  sister  with  strong  Presby- 
terian prochvities  had  arrived  to  stay  with  him  and 
in  deference  to  her  scruples  Burton  had  entered  into 
bonds  of  matrimony.  This  had  promptly  necessitated 
the  enlargement  of  his  establishment  as,  according 
to  custom,  a  strong  contingent  of  his  wife's  relations 
straightway  settled  down  in  his  compound,  and 
though  they  did  not  actually  invade  his  tiny 
dwelling,  they  made  free  of  all  the  resources  of  his 
hospitable  menage,  at  the  same  time  holding  their 
relative-in-law  in  high  respect,  not  only  from  the 
fact  that  he  was  generous  to  a  fault,  but  because  they 
were  proud  to  be  allied  by  wedlock  to  one  of  the 
Samurai  class  (a  matter  of  the  highest  importance 
to  the  Japanese).  Burton  was  a  lineal  descendant 
of  the  famous  Robert  Burton,  a  contemporary  of 
Shakespeare  and  author  of  that  immortal  work, 
*'  The  Anatomy  of  Melancholy." 

He  welcomed  me  with  becoming  professional 
gravity,  but  after  perusing  my  letter  of  introduction 
he  showed  signs  of  considerable  merriment.  It 
appeared  to  recall  some  humorous  incident,  and  as  he 
turned  the  letter  over  he  said,  "  It  may  sound  a 
stupid  story,  but  I  really  must  tell  you  what  happened 


JAPAN  171 

about  dear  old  Feeney.  He  was  due  to  stay  with 
me  here  and  arrived  rather  late  in  the  evening  in 
merry  mood,  having  obviously  said  good-bye  to 
his  shipmates  very  heartily  and  very  often.  Being 
very  tired  he  begged  to  be  excused  and  allowed  to 
retire  for  the  night.  This  also  suited  my  plans, 
as  it  is  my  habit  to  go  to  bed  not  later  than  ten-thirty 
whatever  happens.  The  little  room  he  occupied  was 
also  used  as  a  sort  of  overflow  room  for  odds  and 
ends  of  my  photographic  paraphernalia.  Feeney, 
it  appears,  awoke  in  the  night  suffering  from  an 
all-consuming  thirst.  In  his  sleepy  condition  he 
saw  arranged  upon  some  shelves  what  appeared 
to  be  bottles  of  beer.  Taking  one  down  and  un- 
screwing the  stopper  he  took  a  pull  at  the  contents 
which  proved  to  be  carbolic  acid.  His  yells  of  agony 
promptly  brought  me  to  his  rescue  and  I  had  some 
difficulty  in  allaying  his  suffering,  as  he  had  burnt 
himself  seriously." 

As  later  on  I  was  to  stay  with  him,  perhaps  Burton 
deemed  it  wise  to  warn  me  as  to  the  somewhat 
haphazard  disposition  of  his  store  of  poisons.  He 
proceeded  to  advise  me  as  to  how  best  I  could  employ 
the  time  at  my  disposal,  and  said  that  in  the  event 
of  my  requiring  the  services  of  a  competent  guide 
he  strongly  recommended  a  young  Japanese  gentle- 
man, a  pupil  of  his  own,  who  would  be  glad  to 
undertake  the  duty  at  the  nominal  fee  of  a  dollar 
a  day  and  his  keep  so  that  he  might  have  the 
opportunity  of  practising  and  perfecting  his  know- 
ledge of  the  English  language.  It  was  a  weak  thing 
to  do  considering  my  full-blown  hate  for  the  whole 
race  of  guides,   but  overborne  by   the   Professor's 


172        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

obvious  desire  to  serve  his  student  protege  I  found 
myself  committed  to  a  guide  for  the  whole  term  of 
my  stay  in  Japan. 

Quite  early  in  the  morning  following  I  was 
awakened  from  my  slumbers  by  the  strangest 
apparition  ;  it  was  my  guide — Nakajima — and  he 
had  come  to  stay.  Dispensing  with  anything  in  the 
way  of  an  introduction  save  that  of  a  rather  non- 
commital  kind  of  giggle,  he  doffed  a  dreadful  bowler 
hat  and  disclosed  a  close  cropped  head  thickly 
studded  with  scrubby  bristle.  Nature  had  not  been 
kind  to  Nakajima  ;  his  eyes  were  of  the  cross-over 
kind  which  a  pair  of  enormous  goggles  did  not  con- 
trive to  conceal ;  his  mouth  ran  over  with  teeth 
of  the  protruding  variety,  sheltering  a  small  and 
receding  chin. 

After  divesting  himself  of  a  paper  collar  he  seated 
himself  and,  producing  a  notebook  and  pencil, 
proceeded  to  read  out  his  programme  for  the  day. 
He  had  projected  a  perfect  riot  of  excursions  to 
some  of  the  famous  show  places  of  Japan  which  he 
had  not  previously  been  fortunate  enough  to 
explore.  Nakajima's  devotion  to  his  duties  under- 
mined his  sense  of  proportion.  His  thirst  for  know- 
ledge and  uncontrolled  desire  for  general  improvement 
were  apt  to  become  tiresome  and  often  obscured 
his  sense  of  the  simple  rules  governing  the  relations 
between  buyer  and  seller. 

Keen  to  acquire  a  knowledge  of  colloquial 
Japanese  I  suggested  to  my  guide  that,  as  far  as 
possible,  we  should  try  to  converse  in  that  language. 
Nakajima  would  have  none  of  this.  "  It  is  necessary, 
sir,    for    my   improvement   that   we   should   speak 


JAPAN  173 

much   English."      We   were   at   loggerheads   upon 
practically  every  topic. 

During  my  first  few  days  in  Tokio  I  stayed  at 
the  Imperial  Hotel,  where  you  see  about  as  much  of 
Japan  and  Japanese  customs  as  you  would  find 
in  Northumberland  Avenue.  With  some  little 
difficulty  I  obtained  a  room  at  the  **  Tai  Zan  Kan 
Hotel — the  Ritz  of  the  native  side  of  Tokio — where 
for  a  dollar  a  day  I  enjoyed  the  privacy  and  quiet 
necessary  for  my  work,  after  which,  in  the  evening, 
I  could  go  along  and  sup  with  my  friends.  It  was 
occasionally  very  late  when  I  returned  to  the  Tai 
Zan  Kan,  but  however  late  it  happened  to  be  I 
observed  that  two  or  three  of  the  tiny  maids  were 
at  the  entrance  to  the  hotel,  striving  to  hide  their 
sleepy  gapes  and  yawns.  According  to  custom 
they  insisted  upon  waiting  up  for  me,  toddling  me 
away  to  my  room,  taking  off  my  clothes,  popping  me 
into  bed,  and  after  arranging  my  tea  things,  charcoal 
fire  and  queer  Httle  lantern,  they  made  their  pretty 
obeisance — "  Sayonara  " — and  away  they  waddled. 

My  mode  of  life  was  obviously  at  variance  with 
that  observed  by  the  habitues  of  the  hotel,  and  my 
guide  had  experienced  considerable  difficulty  in 
procuring  my  admission,  this  being  a  privilege 
very  rarely  conceded  to  a  foreigner.  Curiosity  had 
been  aroused  by  the  advent  of  a  stranger  who 
elected  to  leave  all  the  comforts  of  the  European 
hotel  for  the  simplicity  of  a  place  exclusively  used 
by  the  Japanese.  Nakajima  informed  me,  "  Sir  ! 
the  people  of  this  hotel  are  complaining  of  your 
conduct.  They  say  that  you  stay  in  all  day  and 
stop  out  all  night." 


174       RECOLLECIIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

The  meals  provided  were  slight  in  character  : 
tea  minus  milk  or  sugar  ;  plenty  of  rice  but  no  bread  ; 
raw  fish  but  no  meat.  My  apartment  was  without 
furniture,  there  was  an  entire  absence  of  cutlery, 
and  I  lost  a  good  deal  of  weight  before  acquiring 
any  degree  of  dexterity  in  the  manipulation  of  chop- 
sticks. But  the  fare  sufhced  for  my  simple  needs, 
supplemented  as  it  was  by  occasional  entertainment 
provided  by  the  hospitality  of  numerous  friends. 
The  monotony,  however,  began  to  pall  upon  the 
enterprising  temperament  of  my  guide.  '*  Sir  !  it 
is  necessary  for  my  nourishment  that  our  daily 
fare  should  include  chicken  or  similar  features 
of  European  food.  These  are  not  provided  by  the 
proprietors  of  this  hotel."  He  became  somewhat 
mollified  when  I  promised  to  arrange  that  he  should 
be  included  in  the  invitation  for  a  dinner  at  the 
Tokio  Club  given  by  two  of  my  friends  of  the 
Legation. 

Nakajima  was  very  respectably  connected,  but 
his  family  had  been  reduced  in  circumstances  and 
he  was  desirous  of  impressing  his  acquaintances 
with  his  enhanced  importance  by  appearing  as 
a  guest  among  distinguished  company.  Neverthe- 
less, I  remained  a  very  grievous  disappointment 
to  Nakajima.  He  took  not  the  slightest  interest 
in  my  daily  work  as  an  artist,  and  failed  entirely 
to  understand  the  necessity  of  engaging  a  model 
to  pose  hour  after  hour — the  native  artists  never 
working  from  a  model.  As  a  great  concession  he 
brought  his  wife  one  day  and  I  painted  a  little  study 
of  her,  Nakajima  making  it  a  condition  that  I  would 
"  not  allow  anyone  to  purchase  it  under  the  rank 


JAPAN  175 

of  nobleman."  His  wife  certainly  was  a  little  lady 
of  very  refined  appearance.  When  I  remarked  upon 
this  Nakajima  conceded  that  "  she  was  very 
obedient,"  proceeding  to  inform  me  that  his  father, 
a  widower,  had  recently  remarried  and  he  himself, 
as  a  matter  of  convenience,  had  consented  to  marry 
the  sister  of  his  step-mother  and  that  this  arrange- 
ment made  them  all  very  happy. 

Fretting  and  fuming,  Nakajima  was  fairly  hipped 
by  my  extraordinary  reluctance  to  embark  upon 
expeditions  usually  included  in  the  programme 
of  the  ordinary  tourist.  "  Having  already  made 
announcement  my  friends  wish  to  have  explanation 
of  the  delay  in  our  departure  for  Nikko  and  Mime- 
hoshta."  Being  a  great  walker  it  suited  me  to  make 
little  excursions  afoot  in  and  around  Tokio.  After 
one  or  two  experiences  Nakajima  revolted  against 
"  this  habit  only  indulged  in  by  persons  of  lowly 
station,"  and  enquired  before  starting  out,  "  Sir, 
do  you  walk  or  take  rickshaw  ?  If  you  wish  to  walk, 
then.  Sir,  I  cannot  go  with  you."  He  refused  to 
run  the  risk  of  losing  caste  by  the  plebeian  habit  of 
pedestrianism. 

Two  men  from  the  Legation  calling  one  afternoon,  I 
summoned  Nakajima  and  instructed  him  to  bring 
us  three  whiskies  and  sodas.  After  their  departure 
I  enquired  why  he  brought  three  bottles  of  whisky 
when  I  only  ordered  three  glasses.  He  giggled  in 
a  jocular  way  and  said  it  was  quite  all  right,  his 
father  who  had  never  tasted  whisky  would  be 
delighted  to  receive  what  was  left  as  a  present  and 
would  gladly  experiment  with  it  later  on.  As  I  have 
said,  the  gods  had  been  curiously  unkind  to  Nakajima 


176       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

in  the  matter  of  looks,  and  during  one  of  our  little 
talks  I  ventured  to  ask  him  to  tell  me  frankly  how 
our  personal  appearance  affected  the  people  of  his 
race.  He  was  very  loath  to  express  any  opinion 
on  this  subject  but,  being  pressed,  at  length  blurted 
out,  "We  think  you  are  beastly  in  appearance  but 
have  kind  hearts." 

My  living-room  was  a  sweet,  white,  simple  apart- 
ment, with  spotless  mats  on  the  floor,  unsoiled  by 
any  footfall  from  the  outer  world  (your  boots  were 
taken  from  you  as  you  entered  and  left  in  the  outer 
hall).  At  bedtime  a  simple  mattress  and  your 
kimono  nightgown  were  taken  from  a  shelf  let  into 
the  wall,  and  you  slept  there  on  the  floor.  At  dawn 
they  pulled  back  the  sliding  doors  wliich  shielded 
you  from  a  verandah  running  the  length  of  your 
portion  of  the  building  and  opening  out  into  a  toy 
garden  with  dwarf  trees,  rocks  and  waterfall 
tumbling  over  miniature  boulders.  You  were  thus 
exposed  to  the  gaze  of  the  world,  and  when  the  little 
sleeping  apparatus  had  been  carefully  folded  and 
put  back  on  its  shelf,  you  were  ready  for  callers, 
seven  o'clock  being  quite  a  usual  hour. 

I  had  been  a  trifle  embarrassed  by  a  bathroom 
incident  on  the  first  morning  after  my  arrival.  A 
small  primitive  bathroom  opened  out  of  the  passage 
alongside,  and  I  was  enjoying  the  luxury  of  a  hot 
tub  when  one  of  the  little  maids  presented  herself 
holding  out  a  small  white  cloth,  certainly  no  larger 
than  a  man's  pocket  handkerchief.  In  dumb  show 
I  endeavoured  to  suggest  that  she  should  lay  down 
her  dish-cloth  and  take  her  departure.  This  she  had 
no  mind  to  do.    No,  there  she  stood,  betraying  no 


JAPAN  177 

sign  of  embarrassment.  It  was  up  to  me  to  emerge 
dripping  from  that  tub  to  take  the  strip  of  towel 
stuff  from  her  hand.  Obviously  I  could  not  stay 
sitting  in  that  bath  indefinitely,  so  with  all  the  grace 
I  could  assume  this  was  accomplished.  Accustomed 
to  the  daily  use  of  a  voluminous  Turkish  towel, 
I  found  her  strip  of  dish-cloth  entirely  inadequate, 
and  the  little  maiden  waited  with  perfect  patience, 
holding  out  my  kimono  and  watching  me  finish  off 
the  wiping  process  (it  would  be  a  mis-nomer  to  call 
it  drying)  which  had  reduced  her  "  towel  "  to  the 
condition  of  a  handful  of  wet  kerchief. 

She  knew  no  word  of  English  and  I  nothing  of 
Japanese,  so  the  indelicacy  of  the  situation  could 
neither  be  accounted  for  nor  explained  away, 
and  yet  I  divined  from  her  absolute  freedom  from 
any  affectation  of  shyness  that  it  was  true  of  the 
Japanese  that  ''  when  for  the  well-being  of  the 
community  it  is  convenient  to  regard  any  set  of 
circumstances  as  not  being  '  on  view,'  it  is  so 
tacitly  understood  by  observed  and  observers." 
Take  the  case  of  the  general  custom  that  at  five 
o'clock  in  the  afternoon  both  sexes  flock  to  the  public 
baths  and  sit  there  stewing  themselves  minus  covering 
of  any  kind,  chattering  away  and  drinking  tea  in 
the  steaming  hot  water. 

Nevertheless  I  endeavoured  to  persuade  Nakajima 
that  I  could  dispense  with  the  attendance  of  the 
maid  at  my  morning  bath,  but  he  protested  that  any 
reticence  of  this  character  might  be  misunderstood. 
There  was  an  instance  recorded  when  a  foreigner 
had  refused  to  allow  the  servants  in  his  bathroom. 
This   gave   rise   to    a    rumour  that  he  must  be  a 


178       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

devil  concealing  a  long  tail.  As  it  happened  that  a 
malignant  epidemic  broke  out  during  his  stay  in 
the  neighbourhood  this  was  attributed  to  his 
machinations,  and  he  had  to  make  a  hurried 
departure,  accompanied  by  a  shower  of  stones,  and 
was  in  considerable  danger  of  his  life. 

My  own  reticence  must  have  given  rise  to  a  little 
gossip,  for  one  evening  as  the  maids  were  preparing 
my  mattress  for  the  night,  while  I  was  busily  writing 
some  letters  in  the  corner  of  my  compartment,  I 
observed  as  they  took  their  departure  that  one  of 
them  had  concealed  herself  under  the  coverlet,  with 
one  of  her  little  beady  black  eyes  intently  watching 
my  every  movement,  and  I  fancied  I  heard  a  good 
deal  of  muffled  tittering  just  outside  my  room. 
Suspecting  some  little  plot  I  pretended  to  be 
unaware  of  her  presence,  and  having  finished  my 
correspondence  I  proceeded  leisurely  to  make 
preparations  for  retiring  to  rest.  I  was  just  about 
to  draw  back  the  coverlet  when  the  little  maid  flung 
it  back  and  making  a  rush  for  the  door  called  out  in 
mock  terror,  "  Nakajima  !  Nakajima  !  "  The  rest 
of  the  maids  and  my  guide  came  in  choking  with 
laughter  ;  they  had  arranged  the  plot  among  them- 
selves and  thought  it  a  huge  joke. 

Before  taking  my  departure  from  the  Tai  Zan  Kan, 
Nakajima  suggested  that  it  was  incumbent  upon 
me  not  only  to  make  presents  to  the  servants  of  the 
hotel,  but  also  to  the  proprietor  and  his  wife.  He 
assured  me  that  this  was  necessary  in  order  to 
impress  the  people  of  the  hotel  with  the  importance 
and  rank  of  his  employer.  Accordingly  a  list  of  these 
presents  was  drawn  up  with  the  approximate  cost. 


JAPAN  179 

the  total  of  which  was  so  absurdly  out  of  all  pro- 
portion to  the  entire  hotel  bill  that  I  demurred, 
protesting  that  this  lavish  expenditure  was  ridiculous 
and  more  than  could  be  expected  from  a  man  in 
my  position  who  had  to  work  for  his  living  as  an 
artist,  and  therefore  had  to  be  careful  even  in  the 
matter  of  tips.  "  Sir  !  "  he  replied,  "  I  do  not  think 
you  are  too  careful,  I  think  you  are  too  mean." 

Nakajima's  candour  never  deserted  him.  At  no 
time  the  possessor  of  much  costly  jewellery,  I  never 
encumber  myself  with  anything  of  great  value 
while  travelling.  As  it  happened,  the  only  watch  I 
carried  was  a  cheap  Waterbury  ;  if  it  were  lost  or 
stolen  it  was  a  matter  of  no  consequence.  This 
watch  had  proved  a  most  excellent  timekeeper, 
but  it  incurred  the  contempt  of  Nakajima.  I 
expatiated  on  its  merits,  but  my  guide  considered 
it  an  indignity  to  be  in  the  service  of  anyone  wearing 
a  watch  of  that  kind,  for  he  assured  me  that  "no 
Jin-rickshaw  man  in  Tokio  could  be  found  who 
would  not  be  ashamed  of  owning  such  a  thing." 

A  shipmate  of  mine  of  the  "  Peshawar  "  from 
Colombo  to  Yokohama,  who  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  spending  a  few  months  in  Japan  during  the 
spring  of  every  year,  invited  me  one  evening  to 
a  Geisha  party.  He  was  a  man  of  considerable 
wealth  and  belonged  to  a  distinguished  family, 
and  as  he  spoke  the  language  he  was  admitted 
freely  into  the  inner  circle  of  social  Hfe  in  Tokio, 
which  is  by  no  means  easy  of  access  to  any  foreigner. 
My  friend.  Lord  D.,  was  host  for  the  occasion,  and 
the  principal  guest  was  a  young  Japanese  nobleman 
who   had  been   dispossessed  of  his  inheritance  in 


i8o        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

consequence  of  his  marriage  with  a  famous  Geisha 
of  great  beauty  named  Ponta.  He  was  a  most 
charming  and  accomphshed  young  fellow  and 
unusually  tall  for  a  Japanese,  being  over  six  feet 
in  height.  He  had  been  compelled  to  turn  to  and 
earn  his  own  living,  and  being  an  expert  photo- 
grapher he  adopted  this  as  a  profession  and  had 
already  mastered  the  mysteries  of  the  then  recently 
discovered  application  of  the  X-ray,  and  during 
the  evening  he  gave  us  an  exposition  of  this 
wonderful  science. 

This  was  followed  by  a  supper  consisting  of  a 
variety  of  dainty  dishes  peculiar  to  Japan,  diluted 
by  lashions  of  the  most  excellent  native  wine — 
saki — a  cup  of  festive  character  which  both  cheers 
and  inebriates.  The  fun  was  fast  and  furious. 
The  little  Jap  ladies  love  all  games  of  cards,  and 
Poker  was  all  the  rage.  Others  played  Chonkina. 
The  latter  game  afforded  infinite  amusement  and 
caused  peals  of  laughter.  It  was  all  a  httle  difficult 
to  follow,  as  I  was  without  any  knowledge  of  the 
Japanese  language,  but  it  appeared  to  be  a  game 
in  which  forfeits  figured  largely.  One  of  the  players 
lost  everything,  even  to  his  last  stitch  of  clothing. 
Being  duly  divested  of  this,  his  sole  remaining 
asset,  caused  the  wildest  delight,  especially  amongst 
the  ladies  of  the  Geisha  who  gathered  around  him 
to  cover  his  confusion. 

When  the  party  broke  up  everybody  paired  off 
in  their  rickshaws — such  a  jumble  of  laughing, 
chattering  little  people  all  smiles  and  hairpins — 
every  rickshaw  gay  and  festive  with  its  gaudy 
little  lantern  bobbing  about,  but  never  burning — 


JAPAN  i8i 

quaint  cries  coming  from  the  coolies  as  they  raced 
away  each  with  his  rickshaw  full  to  the  brim  with 
its  burden  of  merry  little  maidens.  I  stood  away 
watching  this  scene  like  the  Lord  Chancellor  in 
"  lolanthe  " — "  There's  one  for  he  and  one  for  thee 
but  never  alas  !   a  one  for  me." 

My  host,  a  fat,  jolly  old  fellow,  went  off  wedged 
in  and  almost  smothered  by  his  harvest  of  rainbow- 
coloured  butterflies.  He  called  out  to  me  as  I  stood 
there  feeling  rather  neglected,  "  Help  yourself,  old 
fellow,  there's  a  prize  for  everybody  to-night." 
I  thought  I  was  safe  from  observation  out  there 
in  the  shadow  of  the  maple  trees,  and  was  much 
surprised  when  one  of  the  little  maidens  stole 
stealthily  towards  me  and  whispered  in  my  ear 
(I  was  unaware  that  any  of  them  spoke  English) 
"  I  will  come  and  see  you  to-morrow,  eleven  o'clock 
—do  not  teU  Lord  D." 

This  delicate  httle  attention  to  the  stranger 
within  their  gates  I  attributed  to  the  natural  grace 
of  good  breeding  governing  all  the  actions  of  the 
Japanese.  I  was  as  much  surprised  that  she  was 
as  good  as  her  word  as  by  the  unmistakable  import- 
ance attached  to  her  visit  by  the  proprietor  and 
staff  of  the  hotel,  not  forgetting  the  natural  pride 
of  my  guide  Nakajima.  His  employer,  in  spite 
of  many  disappointing  traits,  was  at  least  of  such 
outstanding  distinction  that  a  well-known  Geisha 
paid  him  the  unheard-of  honour  of  a  personal 
visit  at  his  hotel. 

Her  advent  was  announced  with  a  breathless 
excitement  by  the  proprietor  himself,  supported 
by  his  family  and  the  entire  hotel  entourage,  Naka- 


M 


i82       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

jima  proudly  acting  as  spokesman  and  interpreter. 
The  whole  company  then  made  obeisance  and  retired 
backwards,  bowing  as  though  the  occasion  bore 
a  royal  character,  and  I  was  left  alone  with  Me- 
Sugi. 

That  this  was  an  occurrence  of  no  ordinary 
character  was  evidenced,  much  to  my  surprise 
and  embarrassment,  during  the  same  evening  while 
at  the  theatre  I  found  myself  sitting  in  a  box  next 
to  a  Japanese  gentleman  of  distinction  who  pro- 
ceeded to  congratulate  me  upon  a  conquest  of  so 
interesting  a  nature  ;  and  so,  in  spite  of  myself,  I 
found  I  was  already  accounted  quite  one  of  the 
select  without  any  of  the  elaborate  formula  which 
usually  precedes  this  class  of  adventure. 

The  Geisha  are  more  or  less  highly  trained  enter- 
tainers. They  are  instructed  in  the  arts  of  music, 
singing,  acting  and  dancing,  and  when  they  are 
proficient  can  be  hired  out  to  perform  at  functions 
as  required.  They  serve  an  apprenticeship  in 
estabhshments  run  for  this  purpose,  where  they  are 
housed,  clothed  and  fed — being  kept  under  strict 
surveillance  and  are  always  accompanied  by 
responsible  attendants  when  fulfilling  an  engagement 
to  perform  at  a  party.  It  is  quite  usual  to  engage 
Geisha  to  entertain  your  guests  after  dinner,  the 
cost  incurred  being  in  proportion  to  the  professional 
status  of  the  performers. 

An  erroneous  impression  exists  to  the  effect  that 
the  ladies  of  the  Geisha  are  easy  of  access  and  ''  no 
better  than  they  should  be."  Any  attempt  to  invade 
the  sanctity  of  their  domicile  is  swiftly  resented. 
The  Japanese  are  by  no  means  parochial  in  their 


JAPAN  183 

methods  of  dealing  with  sex  questions,  but  they 
insist  upon  proper  respect  being  paid  to  the  regula- 
tions guarding  their  ancient  institutions. 

Nakajima  was  never  really  happy  in  my  service 
and  made  no  secret  of  his  disappointment  at  being 
baulked  of  his  thirst  for  travel.  He  regarded  me  as 
the  stumbling-block  in  the  path  of  his  progress  and 
expressed  no  sorrow  of  any  kind  at  the  expiration 
of  the  term  of  our  contract.  He  may  have  possessed 
many  valuable  qualities,  but  adaptability  was  cer- 
tainly not  one  of  them. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

JAPAN  [continued) 

TOWARDS  the  end  of  my  stay  in  Tokio  I 
was  the  guest  of  Professor  Burton,  and 
during  my  visit  he  gave  a  party  to  the 
foreign  professors  of  the  university — men 
of  learning  in  every  department  of  hterature  and 
science  drafted  from  many  of  the  great  capitals  of 
Europe.  Some  of  them,  like  Burton,  had  held  their 
appointments  for  a  number  of  years  and  at  last 
elected  to  make  their  home  in  Japan.  A  more 
attractive  coterie  of  men  I  never  hope  to  meet. 
Burton  had  informed  me  that  though  it  was  quite 
possible  that  some  of  the  guests  might  stay  on  till  a 
late  hour  they  were  perfectly  cognizant  of  the  fact 
that  it  was  his  unvarying  custom  to  retire  to  rest  at 
ten-thirty  ;  he  just  faded  away  at  that  hour  without 
any  formality  of  farewell  and  he  strongly  advised 
me  to  do  the  same  the  moment  I  felt  like  doing  so. 
But  the  hearty  good-fellowship  of  this  cosmopolitan 
crowd  completely  won  my  heart.  All  sense  of  time 
was  forgotten  in  the  merriment  of  the  moment,  and 
the  later  it  grew  the  more  difficult  it  seemed  for  me, 
as  a  member  of  the  household,  to  tear  myself  away, 
especially  as  I  had  no  inclination  to  do  anything  of 
the  kind  and  made  up  my  mind  whatever  happened 

to  see  it  through. 

184 


JAPAN  185 

The  party  gradually  dwindled  down  and  dov/n. 
At  last  I  was  left  alone  with  the  most  hardened 
"  late  bird  "  of  the  brood.  The  more  whisky  he 
assimilated  the  less  he  seemed  inclined  to  leave. 
His  stories  became  more  and  more  attenuated, 
increasing  in  duration  as  they  diminished  in  interest. 
It  must  have  been  quite  four  o'clock  in  the  morning 
before  he  faded  away,  the  only  thing  fixed  in  my 
memory  being  the  fact  that  I  had  hstened  and 
listened  till  I  could  listen  no  longer.  He  was  a  good 
fellow,  but  I  was  tired  to  death,  and  the  relief  when 
at  last  he  left  was  intense. 

Burton  appeared  highly  amused  as  we  sat  at 
tiffin  on  the  morning  following  this  banquet.  His 
merriment  was  so  pronounced  as  to  arouse  my 
curiosity.  "  Do  you  know  what  you  did  last  night  ?  " 
he  eventually  asked  me.  "  The  servants  tell  me  that 
at  four  o'clock  this  morning  you  took  Professor 
Wood  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck  and  kicked  him  out 
of  the  house." 

My  host  expressed  the  opinion  that  a  visit  to  the 
Yoshiwara  was  indicated  before  leaving  Tokio. 
Accordingly  Burton's  Japanese  wife  undertook  to 
make  the  necessary  arrangements,  which  are  of  a 
somewhat  elaborate  character  when,  as  they  put  it, 
visitors  of  distinction  have  to  be  provided  for.  The 
Yosliiwara,  a  city  of  pleasure  some  five  miles  out 
of  Tokio,  boasted  at  that  time  of  a  "  fairy  "  popula- 
tion about  five  thousand  strong,  admirably  ad- 
ministered, and  guarded  by  soldiers. 

It  is  necessary  to  show  proper  respect  for  the  code 
of  etiquette  controlling  so  peculiarly  a  national 
institution,  for  manners  matter  enormously  in  Japan, 


i86       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

and  any  clumsy  violation  of  their  rules  and  regula- 
tions is  keenly  resented  as  being  a  slight  upon  their 
national  dignity — in  this  respect  their  sense  of  honour 
being  attuned  to  a  very  high  pitch. 

Mrs.  Burton  had  made  all  the  preHminary  prepara- 
tions. First  of  all  we  presented  our  credentials  at  a 
"Tea  House  of  High  Repute,"  where  we  partook  of 
tea,  and  a  considerable  amount  of  chit-chat  was 
exchanged.  From  there  we  were  personally  con- 
ducted (by  our  new  friends  of  the  tea  house)  to 
another  house,  where  again  much  formaUty  of  intro- 
duction was  indulged  in  and  more  tea  and  still  more 
talk.  What  they  found  to  talk  about  I  haven't  the 
ghost  of  an  idea  and  I  should  have  been  far  happier 
out  in  the  lanes  of  shops.  Miles  of  shops  !  windows 
full  of  tropical  birds  brilhantly  plumaged,  for  all  the 
world  hke  beautiful  captive  Birds  of  Paradise.  They 
are  permitted  to  make  excursions  beyond  the  con- 
fines of  the  Yoshiwara  only  upon  State  anniversaries. 
I  was  present  on  the  occasion  of  their  annual  visit  to 
the  national  theatre,  which  was  gloriously  decorated 
with  cherry  blossom  in  their  honour.  Many  of  these 
ladies  have  been  compelled  to  adopt  "  the  oldest 
profession  in  the  world  "  for  a  hvehhood  in  order  to 
support  their  poor  relations,  and  it  is  accounted  an 
honourable  thing  to  do  and  does  not  in  any  way 
debar  them  from  ultimately  making  quite  an  excel- 
lent marriage. 

I  have  seen  or  heard  it  stated  that  in  Japan  there 
are  no  old  maids  and  no  bachelors,  but  I  was  also 
assured  that  however  varied  the  experience  of  the 
bride-elect  may,  or  may  not,  have  been  before 
marriage — once  married,  a  faithless  wife  is  all  but 


JAPAN  187 

an  unknown  quantity.  It  was  curious,  too,  with 
what  a  keen  interest  Burton's  wife  undertook  to 
arrange  the  details  of  our  expedition  to  the  Yoshi- 
wara,  seeing  that  her  own  husband  was  to  be  a 
member  of  the  party.  I  remarked  upon  this  to  the 
Professor,  who  informed  me  that  so  long  as  no 
secrecy  was  resorted  to  or  extravagance  indulged  in, 
a  Japanese  wife  was  quite  pleased  that  her  husband 
should  enjoy  reasonable  relaxation.  But  any  con- 
cealment or  dissipation  which  becomes  an  encroach- 
ment or  tax  upon  the  resources  of  the  household — 
then  there  is  "  the  devil  to  pay  "  and  her  fury 
knows  no  bounds.  In  fact  so  practical  are  they 
that  in  order  to  keep  their  husbands  from  spending 
their  evenings  away  from  home,  a  Japanese  wife  of 
middle  age  will  see  that  her  husband  has  no  excuse 
for  straying  out  of  bounds,  so  long  as  he  provides 
her  with  ample  means  and  can  afford  the  luxury  of 
extra  entertainment.  His  wife  remains  the  Great 
Lady  and  presides  over  every  detail  of  her  house- 
hold with  infinite  grace  and  undiminished  dignity. 

It  is  still  a  far  cry  from  Fujiyama  to  Peckham 
Rye.  Having  in  my  early  youth  been  an  energetic 
and  enthusiastic  collector  for  the  funds  of  Foreign 
Missions,  it  was  natural  I  should  welcome  a  chance 
of  seeing  for  myself  the  progress  our  people  were 
making  in  persuading  the  Jap  to  swop  his  religion 
for  ours.  Let  me  say  at  once  that  my  interest  was 
entirely  devoid  of  prejudice.  I  was  determined  to 
discover  if  possible  whether  the  published  stories 
relating  to  converts  could  be  verified  on  the  spot. 

I  called  upon  one  missionary  who  ran  a  small 
boys'  school  in  Tokio.     I  saw  the  school,  but  was 


i88       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

informed  by  a  sort  of  monitor  that  the  missionary 
was  in  bed.  I  hoped  he  was  not  ill.  The  reply  was 
non-committal,  so  I  waited  on  but  nothing  happened 
even  after  trying  more  than  once.  The  schoolroom 
where  I  waited  did  not  contain  any  pupils  ;  perhaps 
they  had  tired  of  waiting  for  their  master  to  get  up. 
It  was  furnished  with  maps,  desks  and  inkpots,  for 
aU  the  world  Uke  any  small  schoolroom  you  may  still 
stumble  across  in  many  a  narrow  side  street  in  and 
around  London.  I  fancied  that  the  missionary 
might  perhaps  have  been  glad  to  see  a  man  all  the 
way  from  England  who  had  also  acted  as  a  school- 
master for  a  very  lean  period.  I  waited  so  long 
that  it  suddenly  dawned  upon  me  that  perhaps  for 
some  reason  or  other  my  missionary  had  ceased  to 
care  for  Western  folk  altogether,  and  that  the 
moment  I  was  well  out  of  the  way,  the  pupils  and 
their  teacher  would  come  scurrying  from  their  cubby 
holes  and  resume  their  games  and  spelling  bees  as  if 
nothing  had  happened.  Be  that  as  it  may,  my 
attempt  to  interview  that  missionary  proved  a 
dismal  failure. 

The  following  day  I  embarked  upon  an  expedition 
of  a  similar  character  some  miles  away  in  rather  a 
squalid  suburb  of  Tokio,  where  I  found  quite  a 
settlement  of  missionary  activity,  somewhat  resem- 
bling an  Indian  Reservation,  such  as  you  may  find  in 
remote  places  in  British  Columbia.  It  consisted  of 
a  number  of  small  dwellings  dumped  down  on  a  piece 
of  waste  ground  surrounding  a  larger  building 
obviously  designed  as  a  chapel  and  school-house 
combined.  Here  again  the  half-holiday  spirit 
appeared   uppermost ;     nothing   in   particular   was 


JAPAN  189 

happening.  A  very  dour,  dyspeptic,  unemotional 
Primitive  Methodist  received  me  in  his  parlour.  He 
did  not  evince  any  particular  pleasure  at  my  visit 
nor  did  he  press  me  to  prolong  or  repeat  it.  Obviously 
those  missionaries  were  comfortably  off.  I  have  seen 
similar  dwellings  crowded  with  trashy  nick-nacks 
and  noisy  carpets  no  further  off  than  Walham 
Green. 

A  Japanese  temple  is  a  joy  to  behold.  You  could 
not  add  or  take  away  without  hurt  anything  from  it 
or  indeed  from  any  building  purely  Japanese.  It  is 
spotless  and  peaceful  simplicity  personified,  but  my 
missionaries  had  not  come  to  Japan  to  learn,  they 
came  to  teach.  They  came  to  lighten  the  darkness 
of  a  people  whose  ancient  faith  had  hitherto  sufficed 
for  all  their  simple  needs. 

The  Jap,  swift  to  assimilate  anything  with  a 
promise  of  expansion,  seized  upon  this  opportunity 
of  acquiring  knowledge  for  nothing.  The  men  we 
send  out  to  the  Far  East  as  preachers  of  the  Gospel 
suffer  from  no  lack  of  disciples.  In  India,  China 
and  Japan  they  shepherd  their  little  flocks  ;  they  are 
their  stock-in-trade  and  stand  as  assets  in  the  shape 
of  "  good  will  "  when  the  missionary  makes  a  move 
or  retires  from  business.  The  Roman  Catholic 
shares  all  the  hardships  of  the  people  among  whom 
he  works — of  course  he  has  no  wife  and  family  to 
consider — and  even  in  India,  where  (so  Jamsetjee 
Tata  informed  me)  not  one  single  honest  convert 
had  ever  been  obtained,  the  Roman  Catholic 
missionary  is  respected  alike  by  native  and  Euro- 
pean ;  this  applies  also  to  the  members  of  the 
Salvation  Army. 


190       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

A  missionary  with  whom  I  talked  in  China,  where 
he  had  ministered  for  many  years,  told  me  that  what 
made  his  work  so  difficult  there  was  the  fact  that  in 
the  main  the  Chinese  possessed  all  the  virtues. 
Temperate,  industrious,  dutiful  to  his  parents, 
affectionate  and  devoted  to  his  children,  there  was 
nothing  tangible  to  attack.  But  if,  in  attempting 
to  save  his  soul,  you  also  enlightened  his  mind  and 
incidentally  contributed  to  the  well-being  of  his 
existence,  this  was  an  appeal  that  rarely  failed. 
And  as  a  mission  is  usually  a  haven  of  comfort 
wherever  you  find  it,  conducted  by  a  community 
devoting  their  lives  to  improving  the  condition  of 
their  congregation,  it  is  not  a  matter  of  surprise 
that  in  mission  work  you  find  many  of  the  most  useful 
elements  contributing  to  progress  as  we  understand  it. 

The  Burton  menage  was  a  masterpiece  in  the 
matter  of  surprises.  The  Professor  in  his  invitation 
had  begged  me  to  come  along,  adding,  "  there  are 
occasional  meals,  also  you  will  find  whisky  and 
bottled  ale  and  stout  in  the  cupboard  by  the 
window  in  the  sitting-room."  Departing  to  his 
duties  at  the  university  at  an  early  hour  he  often 
did  not  return  before  bedtime.  In  the  absence  of 
her  lord,  Mrs.  Burton  passed  her  time  in  the 
compound  adjoining  the  house,  which  was  thickly 
inhabited  by  various  complicated  branches  of  her 
relatives.  It  was  a  strange  remote  establishment, 
approached  by  a  long  drive  and  at  the  entrance  was 
a  great  swinging  gate. 

I  was  due  to  dine  out  on  the  first  day  of  my  visit 
to  Burton's  house,  and  on  my  remarking  that  it  was 
possible  I  might  be  rather  late,  he  replied  that  it 


JAPAN  191 

did  not  matter  in  the  least  because,  although  they 
usually  retired  at  an  early  hour,  the  outer  door  was 
never  locked.  On  my  return  some  time  after  mid- 
night I  was  about  to  open  the  gate  leading  up  to  the 
drive  when  two  enormous  dogs  dashed  headlong 
down  the  patch  and  leapt  madly  at  the  bars  of  the 
gate  in  an  attempt  to  tear  me  limb  from  limb.  I 
was  in  no  hurry  to  come  to  grips  with  these  furious 
animals  and  thought  it  rather  curious  of  Burton  not 
to  have  mentioned  the  fact  that  his  house  was 
guarded  by  wild  beasts  of  this  character.  I  hoped 
that  the  infernal  din  they  were  kicking  up  would 
awaken  him  sufficiently  to  hurry  to  my  assistance 
and,  failing  that,  that  perhaps  the  animals  might 
tire  and  enable  me  to  open  the  gate  and  make  my 
way  home.  But  each  attempt  to  lift  the  latch  only 
infuriated  the  dogs  to  a  fresh  outburst  of  violence. 
No  sign  of  life  came  from  the  silent  house.  It  was 
a  most  humihating  position,  and  if  I  had  not  been 
so  far  from  the  hotel  I  really  think  I  should  have 
chosen  to  return  there,  rather  than  face  those  fear- 
some hounds.  On  the  other  hand,  it  would  rank  as 
cowardice  if  I  elected  to  stay  out  there  indefinitely 
in  the  middle  of  the  night,  frightened  by  two 
barking  dogs. 

Then  I  remembered  being  told  that  if  you  are  able 
to  summon  enough  courage  to  assume  an  attitude 
of  absolute  indifference  it  will  disarm  the  hostility 
of  any  strange  dog.  Eventually  this  is  what  I  did 
— with  my  hands  down  by  my  side  I  passed  through 
the  gate  and  walked  slowly  up  the  drive  as  though 
nothing  mattered.  The  dogs  made  a  fearful  row 
but  did  not  attempt  to  hurt  me. 


192       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Mentioning  the  incident  to  the  Professor  the 
following  day,  he  only  said  :  "  Oh  !  I  forgot  those 
dogs.  They  are  two  stray  wild  dogs  we  took  in  out 
of  pity  the  other  day.  They  are  awfully  savage  ; 
they  killed  and  ate  a  boy  only  a  few  days  ago." 

Burton  attended  a  State  function  at  the  palace 
one  evening  and  begged  me  not  to  wait  up,  but  the 
desire  to  hear  details  of  the  affair,  fresh  and  at  first 
hand,  induced  me  to  sit  up.  It  was  hardly  worth 
while,  for  when  Burton  at  last  returned  he  proceeded 
first  of  all  to  divest  himself  of  all  his  court  finery, 
which  he  flung  on  the  floor,  until  he  carried  not  a 
stitch  save  his  loin  cloth,  and  then  expressed  a 
strong  desire  to  fight  me.  Upon  some  bottled  beer 
being  forthcoming,  he  became  more  genial  and 
broke  out  into  smiles,  but  his  story  of  the  party  at 
the  palace  was  very  scrappy  and  rather  blurred. 

Burton  was  a  man  of  many  friendships,  beloved 
by  all  with  whom  he  came  in  contact.  On  the 
eve  of  my  departure,  whilst  I  was  busily  packing  my 
things,  he  informed  me  that  an  old  friend  had  called, 
a  rather  remarkable  man,  to  whom  he  would  like  to 
introduce  me,  but  warned  me  that  his  friend  being 
a  man  who  evinced  the  strongest  likes  and  dislikes 
to  strangers,  our  interview  might  not  prove  to  be  a 
highly  successful  experiment.  He  further  informed 
me  that  his  friend  had  recently  been  rather  under  a 
cloud,  having  emerged  from  the  unpleasant  experience 
of  a  murder  charge,  heard  before  a  court  of  the 
British  Legation.  It  appeared  that  the  case  against 
him  had  been  dismissed,  but  the  effect  of  the 
enquiry  had  hardly  enhanced  a  reputation  which 
already  had  suffered  somewhat  from  his  previous 


JAPAN  193 

record  as  a  Seal  Pirate.  The  seal  fishery  among  the 
islands  had  been  leased  to  the  Russian  Government. 
Hoshino  (that  was  the  pirate's  Japanese  name)  in 
partnership  with  a  bank  clerk  named  Snow  had 
been  in  the  habit  of  chartering  a  sloop,  slipping  away 
during  the  foggy  season  and  poaching  the  seal  skins 
from  under  the  nose  of  the  Russian  fishing  fleet. 
This  had  occasioned  several  sanguinary  encounters 
and  much  friction  between  the  respective  govern- 
ments. 

In  fact,  Hoshino  and  Snow  were  in  the  position 
of  a  brace  of  outlaws,  but  this  amazing  pair  of 
scamps,  at  the  finish  of  the  fishing  season  for  seals 
calmly  came  ashore  to  resume  their  lawful  avoca- 
tions. Snow  was  to  be  found  again  on  his  stool  at 
the  bank,  a  model  of  integrity,  while  Hoshino 
retired  to  his  home  and  his  wife  up  in  Fuji  where, 
married  to  a  Japanese  lady  of  high  degree,  he  ran  a 
sort  of  hostel,  but  so  far  as  I  was  able  to  discover  it 
had  not  brought  him  any  great  prosperity.  He  was 
a  man  of  powerful  physique  but  uncertain  temper, 
and  when  thoroughly  aroused  became  a  public 
danger,  so  much  so,  that  casualties  having  become 
quite  common  as  the  result  of  a  conflict  of  opinion 
between  Hoshino  and  his  adversaries,  the  magis- 
trates officiating  in  the  district  in  which  he  lived  at 
last  issued  an  edict  to  the  effect  that  Hoshino  must 
not  be  contradicted. 

He  really  was  the  son  of  an  English  clergyman 
living  in  Essex,  and  although  for  fifteen  years  he 
had  never  been  home,  I  was  credibly  informed  that 
he  wrote  to  his  Ma  by  every  mail.  I  rashly  laid 
myself   under    a    promise   later    to    call   upon    his 


194       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

parents  on  my  return  to  England,  but  when  that 
time  came,  such  a  visit  seemed  to  bristle  with 
difficulties.  There  appeared  so  many  enquiries 
which  would  baffle  the  ingenuity  of  Ananias  to 
tackle  successfully  that  I  shelved  the  business  and 
after  the  lapse  of  a  little  time  abandoned  the  idea 
altogether. 

My  first  impression  of  Hoshino  as  Burton  intro- 
duced me  that  day  was  one  very  difficult  to  define. 
A  desperado  with  the  deprecating  pose  of  a  Sunday- 
school  teacher — diffident  and  apologetic  in  manner 
at  first,  he  gradually  warmed  to  his  work  and  enriched 
his  talk  with  a  startling  torrent  of  strange  oaths, 
lurid  and  tropical,  smacking  of  dirty  weather  aboard 
some  creaky  old  ocean  tramp.  A  costume  all  black 
down  to  tie,  bowler  and  boots,  enveloped  a  huge 
frame  of  great  strength  and  obvious  activity.  His 
sense  of  fun  leaked  out  and  bubbled  over  every  seam 
of  his  sombre  outfit.  He  was  like  an  awkward  over- 
grown schoolboy  in  his  best  Sunday-go-to-meeting  suit, 
but  there  was  a  queer  little  quiver  in  the  upper  lid 
of  the  left  eye  which  completely  gave  the  game  away. 
His  reserve  soon  vanished  and  we  became  good 
friends  from  the  start — so  much  so  that  he  proposed 
accompanying  me  on  my  return  journey  to  Yoko- 
hama. 

Arriving  there  I  drove  straight  to  the  ship  and 
deposited  my  heavy  baggage  and  learned  that  there 
was  no  chance  whatever  of  her  sailing  for  at  least 
a  fortnight  ;  she  had  been  badly  battered  in  a 
typhoon  off  Kobe  on  the  outward  trip.  The  officers 
informed  me  that  it  was  so  bad  that  the  cargo 
shifted,  and  as  they  were  loaded  up  with  iron  rails 


JAPAN  195 

there  was  great  danger  of  the  freight  crashing 
through  the  iron  plates  of  the  ship's  hull.  The 
Lascar  crew  could  not  be  induced  to  go  down  into 
the  hold  and  these  young  officers  had  been  obliged 
to  do  the  dangerous  work  with  their  own  hands. 
A  risky  business  this — chaining  up  great  bundles 
of  slithering  iron  rails  which  were  being  flung 
from  side  to  side  as  the  ship  rolled  to  an  angle 

of  45°. 

There  was  no  help  for  it,  I  must  find  something  to 
occupy  me  for  a  further  fortnight.  In  the  Club 
I  found  some  naval  men  of  my  acquaintance  who 
invited  me  to  tiffin  in  H.M.S.  ''  Edgar,"  a  first- 
class  cruiser  lying  in  the  bay  with  the  China  Fleet. 
The  "  Edgar  "  was  full  of  memories  for  me.  Only 
a  few  months  before  this  a  Captain  of  Marines 
serving  in  that  ship  had  "  put  me  to  sleep  "  in  a 
drinking  bout.    It  was  in  this  wise. 

The  ward-room  officers  in  the  "  Edgar  "  had  every 
reason  to  be  proud  of  their  Captain  of  Marines. 
He  was  not  only  a  very  smart  officer  but  also  in 
spite  of  a  frail  and  slender  physique  he  possessed 
a  power  of  assimilating  mixed  liquors  which  I  have 
seldom  seen  equalled.  I  had  had  some  slight  previous 
experience  of  him  on  the  P.  and  O.  "  Peshawar  " 
from  Colombo  to  Hong  Kong,  when  I  certainly  had 
noticed  he  made  excellent  practice  and  probably 
he  had  reported  well  of  me  to  his  brother  officers. 
Anyway,  an  invitation  coupled  with  a  courteous 
challenge  reached  me  at  Yokohama  saying  that  the 
ward-room  officers  would  be  glad  to  see  me  for 
tiffin  in  the  "  Edgar,"  where  were  arranged  rows 
of    appetising    cocktails    for    which    their    Chinese 


196       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

barman  was  renowned,  and  it  was  suggested  that 
a  little  trial  of  strength  might  wile  away  the  tedium 
of  the  afternoon  if  I  would  consent  to  a  competition 
with  their  debonair  little  champion  of  the  Marines. 
The  Paymaster  would  act  as  referee  and  undertook 
to  see  that  all  was  fair  and  above  board ;  the 
Captain  of  Marines  to  set  the  pace  and  I  to  follow 
suit. 

After  quite  an  orgy  of  cocktails  (Ichi  Bans)  we 
adjourned  to  the  ward-room  for  tifhn,  during  which 
we  quaffed  the  table  beer  followed  by  lashings  of 
port  as  supphed  to  the  navy.  After  this  we  went 
ashore  to  the  Club  to  play  billiards.  I  don't  recollect 
who  won  the  game,  but  I  remember  we  swallowed 
a  very  indiscreet  quantity  of  whisky  and  soda. 
The  following  stage  was  removed  to  a  dinner  on 
my  P.  and  O.  ship  the  '*  Verona,"  berthed  off  the 
Bund  where  I  was  staying.  We  had  an  excellent 
meal  with  champagne.  It  was  during  dinner  that 
I  fully  reahzed  the  fact  of  my  com.plete  defeat 
and,  throwing  up  the  sponge,  I  withdrew  quietly 
to  my  cabin  and  sought  the  safety  of  my  bunk, 
where  I  peacefully  slept  off  the  effects  of  the  fight, 
while  my  doughty  opponent  went  on  from  strength 
to  strength,  returning  to  his  ship  in  triumph  in  the 
small  hours. 

Having  first  of  all  ascertained  that  my  Captain 
of  Marines  was  away  on  leave,  I  gladly  consented 
to  go  aboard  the  "  Edgar  "  for  tiffin  to  renew  the 
pleasure  of  meeting  my  friends  in  that  hospitable 
ward-room,  especially  as  there  was  no  talk  of  a  return 
match  between  the  Savage  Club  and  the  Royal 
Marines.    Hoshino  had  disappeared  for  the  moment 


JAPAN  197 

on  some  private  business  of  his  own,  but  on  his  return 
I  told  him  that  I  was  taking  tiffin  on  the  "  Edgar  " 
and  that  they  would  be  delighted  to  see  any  friend 
of  mine. 

"  Would  they  ?  "  said  he  with  marked  emphasis, 
"  would  they  ?  The  last  time  I  was  on  board  a 
man  o'  war  I  was  there  eight  months  in  irons." 

This  frank  avowal  roused  me  to  the  fact  that  my 
new-found  comrade  was  no  "  curly-haired  child." 
I  was  to  learn  afterwards  that  he  jumped  overboard 
in  irons  and  swam  ashore — a  feat  requiring  the  most 
prodigious  strength  and  daring. 

Wishing  to  make  a  sketch  of  the  "  Edgar  "  I  took 
my  paint-box  aboard  with  me  and  after  tiffin  they 
kindly  loaned  me  the  ship's  pinnace,  and  for  a  couple 
of  hours  I  sat  there  out  in  the  bay  painting  a  little 
picture  of  the  cruiser.  Coming  ashore  later  in  a 
sampan  I  was  promptly  arrested  by  the  Japanese 
police,  carried  off  to  an  adjacent  station  and  com- 
manded to  disclose  all  the  paraphernalia  of  my 
oil  painting  outfit.  They  regarded  my  zinc-lined 
box  filled  with  tubes  with  the  gravest  suspicion 
as  probably  containing  highly  dangerous  explosives. 
They  were  not  reassured  until  I  had  demonstrated 
to  their  complete  satisfaction  the  innocent  character 
of  these  implements  by  showing  them  the  picture 
of  the  ship  and  the  use  of  the  pigments  employed. 
After  this  I  was  released  with  many  apologies. 

Hoshino  had  not  been  idle  in  my  absence.  "  Now," 
said  he,  "  there  are  only  two  ways  of  spending  this 
fortnight,  pending  the  refitting  and  repairing  of 
your  ship.  I  can  obtain  the  loan  of  a  small  craft 
to  take  us  for  a  short  cruise  along  the  coast  or,  if 


198       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

you  prefer  it,  you  can  return  with  me  to  my  home 
up  in  Fuji." 

The  latter  suggestion,  with  profuse  thanks  I 
begged  to  dechne,  feehng  somehow  safer  in  the  hands 
of  my  pirate  amid  surroundings  of  a  more  neutral 
character.  It  was  also  in  my  mind  that  he  had 
only  recently  cleared  himself  with  difficulty  from  a 
charge  connected  with  the  disappearance  of  a  man 
of  means  who  had  found  the  mountain  air  of 
Fuji  of  so  stimulating  a  nature  that  he  had  died 
of  it. 

Hoshino  handled  our  little  craft  with  the  skiU  of 
a  master  and  the  boat  flew  before  the  breeze  like  a 
great  bird  along  the  fringe  of  the  coast.  After  an 
hour  or  two  of  sailing  in  silence  he  brought  our  boat 
alongside  the  landing  of  a  most  beautiful  temple, 
sitting  right  on  the  edge  of  the  sea.  Whether  we 
were  expected  or  not,  there  awaited  us  the  warmest 
of  welcomes  from  clusters  of  gaily  clad  little  maidens 
who  thronged  the  verandah.  Several  of  them  were 
amusing  themselves  by  fishing  from  the  edge  of 
the  landing,  but  on  our  arrival  they  dropped  their 
little  bamboo  rods  and  flocked  around  us  as  we 
disembarked  and  conducted  us  up  the  great  steps 
leading  into  the  shadow  under  the  wide  eaves  of 
the  temple. 

From  the  start  I  could  see  that  Hoshino  was  no 
stranger,  and  this  was  emphasized  by  the  fact  that 
one  of  the  daintiest  among  the  little  maidens  took 
complete  charge  of  him  from  the  outset.  She 
showed  us  into  a  simple,  spotless  apartment  where 
she  proceeded  very  busily  to  write. 

"  What  is  she  doing,  Hoshino  ?  "  I  asked. 


[apanksk  I.adv  at  Fishing  Funk  ,  Smwo-iii. 


JAPAN  199 

"  She  is  writing  to  my  wife  up  in  Fuji  to  say  that 
we  have  arrived  and  that  every  care  will  be  taken 
of  us  during  our  stay." 

"  But  surely  won't  that  make  trouble  ?  " 

"  Oh,  no  !  my  wife  knows  all  about  this  Httle 
girl.  In  fact,  later  in  the  year  when  she  wants  a 
change  of  air  for  a  few  weeks  my  wife  will  receive 
her  as  a  guest  in  her  home  in  Fuji.  We  also  know 
her  people,  who  are  not  too  prosperous,  and  that 
is  why  this  dear  little  girl  elected  to  come  here  and 
so  make  substantial  contribution  to  the  depleted 
family  exchequer.  She  will  in  all  probability  make 
quite  a  good  marriage  later  on." 

Hoshino  suggested  that  as  it  was  my  first  visit 
it  would  be  a  graceful  thing  to  give  a  supper-party. 
He  invited  the  guests  and  we  had  quite  a  merry 
time.  Supper  consisted  of  the  most  delicious  prawn 
cutlets,  for  which  the  place  was  famous,  cups  of 
saki,  Japanese  lager  beer,  and  Hoshino  unearthed 
a  case  of  excellent  whisky.  For  the  following  day 
he  had  arranged  a  water  picnic — in  fact,  what  with 
fishing  excursions,  athletic  sports,  dramatic  enter- 
tainments, poker  parties,  etc.,  he  displayed  a  perfect 
genius  as  entrepreneur,  leaving  never  a  dull  moment 
by  night  or  day. 

On  the  morn  of  our  departure  he  said,  "  Now  for 
the  bill ;  it  will  be  pretty  stiff  as  we  have  entertained 
so  much.  But  I  will  check  it  and  see  that  you  are 
not  overcharged."  It  was  certainly  the  longest 
bill  I  have  ever  seen — it  was  the  length  of  the  room. 
"  Yes  !  it's  pretty  steep,"  admitted  Hoshino,  "  but 
never  mind,  you  pay  and  I  will  settle  up  in  Yoko- 
hama." 


200       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

We  were  to  spend  our  last  evening  in  some  obscure 
den  in  Yokohama — a  favourite  haunt  and  meeting 
place  of  sailor  men,  the  scum  of  the  seven  seas, 
most  of  them  at  some  time  or  other  shipmates  of 
my  friend  Hoshino.  He  certainly  appeared  to  be 
very  much  at  home  and  became  very  noisy  as  the 
night  advanced.  It  was  a  great  crowded  room, 
reeking  of  rum  and  heavy  with  sweltering  humanity ; 
the  atmosphere  dense  and  clouded  with  foul  tobacco 
smoke  ;  men  with  a  hook  instead  of  a  hand  or 
beating  out  the  time  of  a  tune  with  the  business 
end  of  a  timber  foot.  I  was  watching  the  clock. 
At  four  o'clock  my  ship  was  due  to  sail  and  I  must 
be  aboard  willy-nilly  without  fail.  The  time  was 
growing  near,  and  preparing  to  go  I  looked  around 
to  say  my  farewell  to  Hoshino.  There  he  was  in 
full  swing  standing  high  up  on  a  battered  old  grand 
piano  conducting  the  chorus  of  some  old  chanty 
of  the  sea. 

"Where  do  you  think  you're  going?  "  he  shouted. 
"  Much  better  stay  with  us.  That  rotten  ship  of 
yours  will  never  reach  England.  Aren't  you 
enjoying  yourself  ?    Why  go  ?  " 

Slipping  away  I  turned  and  caught  just  one  last 
glimpse  of  my  friend  towering  above  a  crowd  of 
ruffians,  shrieking  the  refrain  of  some  blasphemous 
fo'c'sle  ditty  with  uplifted  glass  at  arm's  length. 

The  grey  dawn  was  just  breaking  as  I  stepped  into 
a  rickshaw  and  was  borne  swiftly  and  silently  along- 
side the  great  ship.  The  din  of  the  derrick  and 
rattle  of  chains  as  the  ship  was  released  from  her 
moorings — the  scurry  of  Lascars  as  the  sharp  word 
of   command   rang   out — what   a   different   setting 


JAPAN  201 

this  orderly  discipline  to  the  wild  orgy  I  had  left 
behind  me  ! 

It  made  me  a  trifle  sad,  knowing  as  I  clambered 
up  the  slippery  gangway  that  I  was  awaking  from 
the  dream  of  my  life. 

I  was  leaving  Japan. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

ALFRED    HARMSWORTH,    VISCOUNT    NORTHCLIFFE 

LORD  NORTHCLIFFE,  twenty-five  years  ago, 
had  already  amassed  an  immense  fortune 
^  and  was  a  power  in  the  land,  although 
he  was  still  a  very  young  man. 

I  met  him  first  in  1897,  after  my  return  from  the 
East.  He  had  seen  portraits  by  me  at  the  town 
house  of  Sir  Henry  Lucy,  and  as  he  wished  to  possess 
similar  work  of  mine  he  asked  me  to  call  at  Carmelite 
House  to  discuss  a  plan  of  action,  and  make  an 
appointment.  I  was  lunching  out  that  day,  and 
was  due  to  meet  Alfred  Harmsworth  at  three-thirty. 
My  cabman  did  not  know  Carmelite  House — neither 
did  I — and  he  drove  me  all  round  the  Temple  with 
the  result  that  I  was  a  few  minutes  late  in  keeping 
my  appointment. 

Mr.  Sutton  (now  Sir  George  Augustus  Sutton, 
Bart.)  was  business  secretary  in  those  days,  sitting 
in  the  outer  room.  He  informed  me  that  as  I  was 
a  few  minutes  late  Mr.  Harmsworth,  whose  appoint- 
ments were  booked  to  the  minute,  would  be  unable 
to  see  me  until  he  had  completed  his  other  engage- 
ments. 

I  waited,  and  I  hate  waiting.  Can  you  picture  me 
staring  at  the  door  all  that  dreary  afternoon,  while 

202 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  203 

many  other  men  came  and  went  during  those  few 
hours  that  seemed  a  thousand  years,  only  to  be 
informed  at  the  end  of  it,  in  reply  to  my  query  : 
"  Is  there  any  chance  of  seeing  Mr.  Harmsworth 
to-day  ?  "  "  Sorry,  Mr.  Harmsworth  has  left  the 
building." 

I  left  it  too,  rage  tearing  at  my  heart.  A  following 
letter  quite  courteously  informed  me  that  Mr. 
Harmsworth  was  sorry  not  to  have  been  able  to  see 
me  as  he  was  going  abroad  for  six  months,  but  hoped 
to  upon  his  return  to  town. 

Sure  enough  I  was  summoned  to  Berkeley  Square 
when  he  came  back — the  appointment  struck  me 
as  rather  strange — it  was  for  9.30  a.m.  !  I  arrived 
on  the  stroke  of  time  and  was  shown  up  without 
delay,  and  saw  Alfred  Harmsworth  for  the  first 
time.  He  was  "  in  the  buff,"  fresh  from  his  bath, 
being  rubbed  down  by  his  valet. 

"  Come  in.  Ward,"  he  said,  "  you  are  accustomed 
to  the  nude.  What  do  you  think  of  my  figure  ? 
Now  we  will  talk  business." 

Thereupon  he  unfolded  a  plan  whereby  he  was  to 
found  a  gallery  of  celebrated  folk.  I  enquired  how 
many  he  proposed  to  include  in  his  collection  ;  he 
replied,  "  Every  person  of  importance  of  the  period." 
I  suggested  that  was  rather  a  large  order  ;  he  swept 
this  aside  at  once,  saying  that  we  were  both 
young  men,  and  therefore  the  scheme  presented  no 
difficulties. 

He  suggested  that  first  of  all  I  should  paint  a 
portrait  of  himself,  and  afterwards  portraits  of  all 
his  brothers,  and  most  important  of  all,  one  of  his 
mother,  a  personality  he  regarded  as  the  strongest 


204       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

character  of  them  all.  In  this  he  was  most  certainly 
quite  justified,  for  of  all  the  wonderful  people  I  have 
met  this  great  lady  possesses  in  the  highest  degree 
all  the  qualities  that  make  for  success  under  any 
conditions.  Much  will  be  written  round  the  history 
of  this  wonderful  family,  all  of  them  displaying 
uncommon  ability  in  their  various  ways. 

Walking  in  his  garden  at  Elmwood  with  Alfred 
Harmsworth  and  listening  to  the  fascinating  story 
of  the  gigantic  enterprise  he  controlled  I  ventured  to 
remark,  "  Really  it  sounds  like  a  fairy  story." 
"  Yes,"  he  ejaculated,  "  and  /  am  the  Fairy  Prince." 

As  a  sitter  he  left  much  to  be  desired.  Moody 
and  mischievous,  he  would  sit  just  when  and  where 
he  liked— finally  he  posed  perched  up  on  a  window- 
seat  reclining  against  the  window  with  a  background 
of  half-light.  My  effort  to  reproduce  this  effect  was 
more  difficult  and  painful  than  an  attempt  to  paint 
out  the  spots  on  the  sun.  In  addition  he  regarded 
the  fitful  few  hours  apportioned  to  the  portrait 
business  as  playtime,  during  which  he  summoned 
not  only  the  rest  of  the  house-party  but  also  the 
footmen,  butler,  or  any  member  of  the  household 
who  happened  to  be  within  hail,  saying,  "  Now, 
I  want  the  brutal  truth.    Is  it  anything  like  me  ?  " 

The  allusion  to  the  portrait  on  the  easel  was  very 
embarrassing  to  the  artist,  much  as  it  appeared  to 
amuse  the  sitter.  With  a  sly,  malicious  enjoyment 
of  the  torture  he  was  inflicting,  he  said,  "  You  know 
you  hate  this  business  just  as  much  as  I  do." 

It  got  itself  finished  somehow,  and  I  felt  it  was  not 
a  great  performance.  There  is  nothing  funny  about 
painting   a   portrait,   and  if  sitters  will  insist   on 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  205 

"  rotting  "  the  whole  time  they  must  take  the  con- 
sequences. 

G.  F.  Watts,  wonderful  as  he  undoubtedly  was  in 
treatment  of  lofty  themes — noble  in  conception 
with  great  grandeur  of  line,  solemn  as  sunrise  over 
strange  mountains,  was  not  really  the  great  portrait 
painter  that  people  thought  he  was.  Now  and  again 
he  was  very  good,  but  when  he  missed  he  missed  by 
miles,  yet  a  remark  of  his  is  worth  remembering ; 
it  is  this  :  "A  portrait  painter  should  strive  to 
represent  the  expression  the  sitter  would  wear  when 
alone  in  a  room." 

A  self-conscious  portrait  as  a  rule  is  an  abomina- 
tion. Every  really  fine  portrait  is  also  a  fine  picture 
and  should  make  its  appeal  on  that  ground  alone, 
quite  irrespective  of  the  subject  represented.  The 
old  French  professor  (I  forget  his  name)  was  quite 
right  when  he  said,  "It  is  not  what  you  do  ;  it  is 
how  you  do." 

In  spite  of  the  fact  that  Watts  painted  numerous 
portraits  of  his  famous  contemporaries,  he  never 
at  any  time  catered  for  commissions  known  as 
"  Presentation  Portraits" — full-length  performances 
in  "  glad  "  regalia,  with  conventional  "  back  cloth  " 
consisting  of  a  terrace  and  one  massive  pillar, 
half  concealed  behind  a  red  curtain.  But  at  last 
he  was  induced  to  embark  upon  the  representation 
of  an  individual  of  this  character. 

I  remember  seeing  it  exhibited  in  the  old  Grosvenor 
Gallery.  It  was  completely  unsuccessful,  and  Watts 
received  a  communication  from  the  committee 
venturing  to  express  their  disappointment  with  the 
picture — but  enclosing  his  fee  of  a  thousand  guineas. 


2o6       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Watts  promptly  returned  the  cheque  with  an 
intimation  to  the  committee  that  "  they  might  go 
to  Holl." 

And  eventually  Frank  Holl,  R.A,,  did  furnish 
them  with  what  they  required. 

Perhaps  one  might  say  a  word  regarding  the 
absurdity  of  a  duel  in  the  business  of  a  bargain 
between  a  man  like  Alfred  Harmsworth  and  a  man 
of  more  ordinary  calibre.  It  was  pitting  an  old- 
fashioned  frigate  against  a  mystery  ship  armed  with 
every  conceivable  up-to-date  device  for  attack  and 
defence.  His  mobile  point  of  view  was  very  baffling 
to  an  opponent  who  had  hampered  himself  with  any 
preconceived  idea  as  to  the  line  of  action  likely  to 
be  adopted  by  this  formidable  adversary  who  was 
able  at  will  to  submerge,  to  fly  if  he  found  it  advis- 
able, or  without  warning  to  become  a  fortress. 

"  In  a  bargain,  Ward,  I  would  not  only  skin  a 
flint,  but  I  would  squeeze  the  moisture  out  of  it." 
This  he  said  to  me  twenty-five  years  ago  while  we 
were  discussing  the  commercial  side  of  life  and  the 
varied  methods  of  conducting  successful  enterprise. 

In  my  own  first  affray  with  "  the  Chief,"  as  he 
was  soon  to  be  christened,  I  was  defeated  before 
ever  entering  the  ring.  I  was  credibly  informed  by 
people  who  really  ought  to  have  known  better 
(managers  and  editors  of  old-established  dailies) 
that  this  mushroom  culture  of  halfpenny  papers 
was  foredoomed  to  failure  and  that  their  financial 
downfall  was  imminent — an  impression  which  I 
afterwards  learned  the  Harms  worths  took  small 
pains  to  discourage.  I  was  actually  warned  that 
whatever  terms  I  was  able  to  arrange,  it  would  be 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  207 

wise  to  see  that  I  got  the  money  quickly  before  it 
was  too  late.  Small  wonder  that  I  only  ventured  to 
suggest  the  most  modest  remuneration  when  brought 
face  to  face  for  the  first  time  with  the  man  who  was 
prepared  to  entrust  me  with  many  important 
commissions  on  my  own  terms.  Alfred  Harms  worth 
was  a  prince  in  promise  and  also  in  performance  so 
long  as  he  was  sure  of  his  man,  but  was  impatient 
of  anything  suggesting  doubt,  delay,  or  hesitation 
in  arriving  at  a  plan  of  action  or  in  its  execution. 
He  was  intolerant  of  any  scheme  which  exhibited  no 
sign  of  commercial  success. 

His  sense  of  sly  humour  and  genius  for  relegation 
manifested  itself  at  a  very  early  age.  His  mother, 
who  shared  his  subtle  appreciation  of  the  humorous 
to  a  very  high  degree,  told  me  the  following  story  : 
When  Alfred  and  his  brother  Harold  were  little 
boys  together  they  were  in  the  habit  of  going  to  tea 
with  a  very  kind  old  lady,  a  Mrs.  Jealous,  the  wife 
of  a  Henry  Jealous  who  ran  a  little  newspaper  in 
Hampstead.  On  one  occasion  there  was  for  some 
reason  or  other  a  slight  delay  in  the  appearance  of 
tea.  Alfred,  who  even  in  those  days  hated  being 
kept  waiting,  but  did  not  like  to  appear  greedy 
himself,  remarked  :  "  Mrs.  Jealous,  do  you  know 
what  Harold  is  thinking  about  ?   .  .  .  Cakes  !  " 

Many  years  afterwards  when  Mrs.  Jealous  became 
a  widow  and  Alfred  had  already  embarked  on  his 
dazzling  career  he  made  it  possible  for  the  old  lady 
(who  was  not  left  in  a  position  of  great  affluence)  to 
take  a  trip  round  the  world  under  conditions  of  the 
greatest  comfort  so  that  her  bereavement  might  be 
mitigated  by  an  entire  change  of  life  and  scene. 


2o8       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

That  this  thoughtful  generosity  was  typical  of 
his  attitude  towards  women  and  children  with  whom 
Alfred  Harmsworth  came  in  contact  will  be  readily 
conceded  by  all  those  who  knew  him  for  many  years. 
Take  the  case  of  my  own  children.  Alfred  Harms- 
worth  volunteered  to  take  my  three  boys  into  his 
business  at  a  time  when  Carmelite  House  was 
besieged  by  parents  and  guardians  moving  heaven 
and  earth  to  place  their  young  people  in  that  hive 
of  humming  activity  with  all  its  promise  of  advance- 
ment in  life  for  those  who  displayed  any  ability. 

Cecil  Rhodes  remarked  of  him  at  that  time  : 
"  Say  what  you  like,  but  that  young  man,  little 
more  than  a  youth  himself,  has  provided  an 
outlet  for  the  activities  of  thousands  of  young 
people." 

The  friendship  between  Cecil  Rhodes  and  Alfred 
Harmsworth  was  spontaneous,  sincere  and  whole- 
hearted. The  "  Empire  Builder  "  fell  at  once  to  the 
charm  and  astounding  ability  displayed  by  the 
younger  man,  who,  in  his  turn,  revered  the  real 
greatness  of  Cecil  Rhodes,  with  the  result  that 
whenever  the  latter  was  in  England  they  saw  quite 
a  lot  of  each  other. 

Alfred  Harmsworth  also  appreciated  to  the  full  the 
business  qualities  of  Sir  Thomas  Lipton,  who  was  a 
frequent  visitor  at  Berkeley  Square,  and  having 
expressed  a  strong  desire  to  meet  Cecil  Rhodes,  Sir 
Thomas  was  cordially  invited  to  dinner  for  this 
purpose. 

A  largish  party  assembled,  and  just  as  dinner  was 
announced  an  opportunity  presented  itself  of  intro- 
ducing the  two  men. 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  209 

"  Mr.  Rhodes,"  said  Harmsworth,  "  allow  me  to 
present  Sir  Thomas  Lipton." 

It  was  unfortunate  that  at  this  moment  Rhodes 
was  deep  in  thought  and  suffering,  as  he  sometimes 
did,  from  an  embarrassing  habit  of  thinking  aloud, 
coupled  with  an  absolute  and  lofty  indifference  to 
his  immediate  surroundings.  But  the  mention  of  a 
familiar  name  seemed  to  bring  him  to  earth,  and 
with  eyes  raised  aloft,  he  appeared  to  visualize  a 
well-remembered  universal  reminder  with  which 
every  hoarding  the  world  over  was  plastered. 
Oblivious  to  the  fact  that  Sir  Thomas  Lipton  was 
standing  before  him  awaiting  the  long-cherished 
ambition  of  his  better  acquaintance,  Rhodes  merely 
murmured  :   "  Yes  !  .  .  .  Buy  Lipton's  Teas." 

"  Buy  Lipton's  Teas,"  he  repeated  as  they  pro- 
ceeded towards  the  dining-room,  as  though  fearful 
of  forgetting  the  fact — "  Buy  Lipton's  Teas." 

During  dinner  he  repeated  it  like  a  lesson  to 
be  learned  :  "  Buy  Lipton's  Teas."  He  tried  it 
with  the  accent  on  the  "  Buy  "  and  then  on  the 
"  Lipton's,"  and  again  he  tried  it  on  the  "  Teas." 
He  ran  it  swiftly,  he  dragged  it  slowly,  and  just 
when  everyone  was  hoping  he  had  finished  with  it, 
he  would  break  out  again.  "  Yes  !  .  .  .  Buy  Lipton's 
Teas." 

Whether  he  succeeded  in  satisfying  himself  as  to 
which  form  pleased  him  most  will  never  be  known, 
but  it  certainly  spoilt  the  party — as  a  party. 

Passionately  fond  of  music,  Alfred  Harmsworth 
delighted  in  nothing  so  much  as  affording  his  friends 
the  opportunity  of  listening  to  the  greatest  exponents 
of  their  particular  medium,  instrumental  or  vocal. 


V 


210        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

One  afternoon  at  Berkeley  Square,  Melba  was  en- 
gaged to  appear,  also  Paderewski,  Bispham,  and 
Coquelin  to  recite — a  noble  array  of  famous  talent. 

A  crowd  of  expectant  guests  filled  the  house  as 
Paderewski  took  his  seat  at  the  grand  piano.  As 
was  not  unusual  with  him,  he  appeared  to  betray 
some  slight  hesitation  in  making  himself  thoroughly 
at  home  with  the  atmosphere  of  the  gathering,  but 
when  eventually  he  had  satisfied  himself  with  his 
position  at  the  piano  and  had  experimented  with 
various  introductory  phrases  he  proceeded  to 
develop  an  exposition  of  his  dazzling  technique  and 
wandered  dreamily  from  theme  to  theme,  delighting 
the  assembly  by  the  magic  of  his  artistry  and  losing 
himself  completely  in  the  full  expression  of  his 
power.  So  absorbed  was  he  that  all  sense  of  the 
passage  of  time  appeared  to  have  left  him. 

Melba,  an  old  friend  of  her  host,  pointed  out  that 
she  was  due  to  appear  at  the  opera  early  in  the 
evening,  and  that  unless  Paderewski  vacated  the 
platform  she  would  be  compelled  to  take  her 
departure  without  fulfilling  her  engagement  to  sing. 

Still  Paderewski  played  on. 

The  other  members  of  the  group  of  artistes  one 
by  one  approached  Mr.  Harmwsorth  and  explained 
that  they  would  soon  have  to  go  to  fulfil  their 
evening  engagements,  but  he  could  only  protest  that 
it  was  impossible  to  interrupt  the  great  pianist,  who, 
all  unmindful  of  the  contretemps  he  was  creating, 
still  played  on,  wandering  from  pole  to  pole  through 
the  endless  maze  of  his  repertoire — even  the  gradual 
melting  away  of  his  home-sick  audience  failed  to  cool 
his  ardour. 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  211 

He  is  a  great  player,  and  I  believe  is  still 
playing. 

The  gatherings  at  Elmwood — Alfred  Harmsworth's 
little  country  house  near  Broadstairs — were  usually 
bachelor  parties,  extending  from  spring  in  relays 
through  the  summer. 

Each  year  in  those  days  he  financed  a  huge  camp 
in  the  vicinity  of  the  North  Foreland  Lighthouse. 
Father  Dolling  was  the  organizer,  and  it  was  wonder- 
fully well  done.  An  army  of  boys  from  Poplar  lived 
under  canvas,  superintended  by  an  able  staff  of 
voluntary  workers,  chiefly  recruited  from  the  parish 
of  St.  Saviour's,  Poplar,  where  Father  Dolling  was 
rector,  and  devoted  the  latter  part  of  his  life  to  the 
betterment  of  conditions,  both  spiritual  and  temporal, 
of  that  densely  populated  region. 

Alfred  Harmsworth  took  the  greatest  personal 
delight  in  this  enterprise  and  visited  the  camp  daily. 
As  we  stood  watching  the  boys  at  their  games  he 
remarked  to  me  :  "  How  better  could  I  disburse 
my  surplus  cash  ?  It  is  at  least  as  reasonable  as  if 
I  squandered  my  money  on  horse  racing." 

Cricket  matches,  football,  athletic  sports  of  every 
kind,  camp-fire  concerts  in  the  evening  and  the  best 
of  simple  fare  were  provided.  The  house-party 
dined  in  batches  at  the  camp  and  the  staff  in  turn 
came  in  relays  to  dinner  at  Elmwood.  Many  of 
them  were  old  public  schoolboys  and  men  from  the 
'Varsities,  pleased  to  spend  their  long  vacation  in 
the  camp.  It  was  organized  on  military  lines  and 
each  morning  a  company  of  the  camp's  "  army  " 
would  parade  before  the  house   while   their  band 


212       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

discoursed  music  to  their  host,  whose  great  delight 
it  was  to  provide  a  splendid  holiday  under  the  best 
conditions  for  many  hundreds  of  these  East  End 
dwellers. 

Alfred  Harmsworth  was  a  great  child  lover  and 
entered  into  the  spirit  of  all  their  pleasures  like  a  boy 
himself.  He  found  in  Father  Dolling  a  man  after 
his  own  heart — one  who  loved  the  poor  and  devoted 
all  his  energies  to  brightening  their  lives.  And 
Dolling  was  enabled  to  deal  effectively  with  many 
problems  which  would  have  been  difficult  of  solu- 
tion had  he  not  been  fortunate  in  finding  a  man  of 
great  wealth  who  placed  his  purse  unstintingly  at 
his  disposal. 

Alfred  Harmsworth  had  many  whimsical  methods 
of  amusing  himself.  One  which  I  remember  was 
the  writing  of  a  book  in  collaboration  with  a  young 
friend  who,  like  himself,  was  a  great  traveller.  They 
corresponded  with  each  other  wherever  they  might 
find  themselves,  in  the  compiling  of  their  book, 
entitled  "  The  Book  of  Gluttons."  This  contained 
elaborate  descriptions  of  any  remarkable  specimen  of 
that  order  with  whom  they  came  in  contact,  and  they 
interchanged,  through  their  letters,  their  respective 
"  finds."  Alfred  Harmsworth  always  provided  the 
best  of  fare  for  his  guests  and  possessed  a  cellar 
containing  the  finest  vintage  champagne  and  other 
wines,  and  had  not  always  to  look  far  for  additions 
to  his  collection. 

Being  amused  and  rather  curious,  I  asked  my 
host  to  give  me  as  an  example  some  specimen  he 
had  recently  been  fortunate  in  finding. 

He  laughingly  replied  :    "  Well,  as  a  matter  of 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  213 

fact,  Ward,  I  have  just  added  you  to  the  bottle 
department  of  my  collection  as  '  the  golden  crested 
variety.'  " 

There  was  an  old-fashioned  fishpond  at  the  end  of 
the  lawn  at  Elmwood,  and  I  was  much  amused  at 
the  deft  manner  with  which  Alfred  Harmsworth 
disposed  of  the  activities  of  a  restless  guest  who  had 
rashly  ventured  to  boast  of  his  prowess  as  a  fisher- 
man. With  an  adroit  assumption  of  great  satis- 
faction at  finding  at  last  a  man  who  really  was 
capable  of  grappling  with  the  problem  of  enticing 
the  mammoth  pike  from  his  lair  in  the  pond,  our 
host  gave  elaborate  instructions  to  his  servants  to 
provide  the  fisherman  with  every  possible  requisite 
in  the  way  of  tackle  and  bait.  His  lunch  was  to  be 
taken  out,  and  strict  injunctions  were  issued  that  on 
no  account  was  he  to  be  disturbed  by  any  fellow- 
guest,  as  the  slightest  movement  or  noise  might 
ruin  his  chances  of  securing  the  prize.  I  can  see 
him  now,  sitting  in  solitary  state,  rod  in  hand, 
surrounded  by  bait-cans,  clad  in  long  rubber  boots 
and  a  great  mackintosh.    It  was  raining  steadily. 

"  A  wet  day  is  just  the  right  one  for  successfully 
luring  the  great  fish  from  his  fastness  at  the  bottom 
of  the  pool,"  said  our  host.  At  any  rate,  it  secured 
him  his  freedom  for  that  day  at  least,  from  the 
necessity  of  listening  to  some  great  scheme  for  the 
transmutation  or  the  elimination  of  sand  from  sugar, 
in  which  the  disciple  of  Isaak  Walton  was  pro- 
foundly concerned. 

The  sand  still  remains  in  the  sugar  and  that  silent 
pool  still  shelters  that  apocryphal  pike. 

Those  of  us  given  to  early  rising  and  long  walks 


214       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

before  breakfast  were  classified  as  "  Rum  and 
Milkers."  Alfred  Harmsworth,  though  rarely  out 
of  his  bed  after  10.30  p.m.  was  seldom  on  view  much 
before  mid-day  ;  his  theory  being  that  the  restless 
spirits  who  could  not  enjoy  their  beds  in  the  morning 
usually  figure  sooner  or  later  in  the  bankruptcy 
court.  As  a  matter  of  fact,  he  got  through  more 
work  while  lying  in  bed  between  five  and  ten  in  the 
morning  than  any  other  man  I  have  ever  known, 
during  the  whole  day. 

Much  of  the  rest  of  the  day,  during  which  he 
darted  gaily  here,  there  and  everywhere,  appeared 
to  be  spent  in  evading  either  his  valet  or  one  or 
more  of  his  secretaries,  or  failing  them,  somebody 
of  importance  summoned  specially  from  town,  who 
was  probably  obliged  to  return  before  the  business 
in  hand  was  even  referred  to.  I  was  there  on  one 
occasion  for  several  days  in  order  to  paint  his  portrait ; 
there  were  two  men  from  New  York  who  were  no 
more  fortunate  than  myself  in  getting  their  business 
forward  ;  also  people  of  obvious  consequence  con- 
stantly coming  and  going. 

He  must  have  been  violently  in  earnest  when  he 
really  tackled  anything.  Possibly  that  was  one  of 
the  secrets  of  his  amazing  success — that  he  could 
not  be  induced  to  make  any  decision  of  importance 
save  at  a  moment  of  his  own  choosing,  and  was 
resolutely  adamant  in  declining  to  "  face  the  music," 
unless  he  himself  felt  completely  in  tune.  But  in 
his  fluid  moments  he  could  and  did  make  the  most 
lightning  decisions,  and  though  frequently  at 
variance  with  all  accepted  theories  he  was  nearly 
always  right. 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  215 

He  would  suddenly  absent  himself  from  his 
business,  leaving  matters  of  paramount  importance 
awaiting  his  decision  and  settle  them  finally  far  out 
of  the  reach  of  all  his  advisers  while  away  on  a 
fishing  holiday  in  Spain.  Wherever  he  went  there 
was  always  the  possibility  that  he  would  find  good 
fishing.  Yet  I  never  heard  of  his  catching  anything 
— though  certainly  I  never  saw  him  at  work. 

"  I  am  the  man  that  you  must  have  in  every  great 
business — the  man  who  can  say,  Yes  and  No,"  was 
a  remark  of  his  to  me.  Nothing  appeared  to  escape 
him,  and  though  I  never  actually  saw  him  reading 
either  a  book  or  a  paper,  he  appeared  to  be  com- 
pletely informed  upon  everything  of  importance 
that  had  ever  been  written. 

But  no  one  knows  Lord  Northcliffe  who  never  saw 
him  romping  with  a  lot  of  children — a  child  among 
children — and  none  so  swift  as  they  to  recognize 
one  of  themselves.  He  was  really  in  his  element 
at  any  old  rough  and  tumble,  playful  as  a  kitten, 
rolled  over  and  over  on  the  carpet  by  a  crowd  of 
delighted  youngsters,  half  strangled  and  breathless 
with  laughter — and  what  a  joyous  laugh  his  was, 
infectious  and  unrestrained.  He  liked  nothing  so 
much  as  a  day  out  bird's-nesting  with  boys,  taking 
their  lunch  with  them  in  their  pockets,  roaming 
through  the  woods  and  climbing  the  trees,  until 
tired  out  they  all  lay  down  exhausted  and  fell  asleep 
in  a  bunch  on  the  grass — like  so  many  babes  in  the 
wood. 

He  was  constantly  showing  his  appreciation  of 
the  fact  that  Dame  Fortune  had  lavished  her  smiles 
upon  his  career  to  such  an  extent  that  while  still 


2i6       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

almost  a  boy  he  found  himself  free  to  make  things 
easier  and  pleasanter  for  many  of  those  older  men 
who  had  lived  laborious  days  without  having 
achieved  a  similar  enviable  security  from  the  cares 
of  existence  ;  and  so  far  as  was  possible,  he  took 
a  boyish  delight  in  a  thousand  ways  of  adding  to 
the  pleasures  of  those  men  in  the  career  of  letters 
who  had  not  reaped  the  due  reward  of  their 
labours. 

George  Augustus  Sala,  one  of  the  giants  of 
journalism  in  his  day,  was  also  a  hon  viveur  of  such 
discrimination  and  delicate  palate  (in  fact  he  wrote 
a  book  devoted  entirely  to  the  subject),  that  the 
best  of  everything  was  only  just  good  enough  for 
him.  He  and  Alfred  Harmsworth  were  frequently 
together  in  Paris  in  the  days  when  dining  was  a 
fine  art.  Sala  was  familiar  with  those  famous, 
exclusive  restaurants  (now  alas  !  a  thing  of  the  past) 
where  a  ceremonial  regard  for  all  details  appertaining 
to  food  and  wine  was  little  short  of  a  religion. 

Sala,  the  best  of  good  fellows  in  any  company, 
was  not  in  a  position  to  avail  himself  of  all  the 
opportunities  which  Paris  in  its  golden  days  offered 
to  so  old  and  honoured  an  habitue  of  its  sacred 
haunts.  Nothing  gave  Alfred  Harmsworth  more 
delight  than  to  devise  occasions  upon  which  Sala 
could  really  exercise  his  culinary  knowledge,  design- 
ing an  exquisite  entertainment,  deploying  all  the 
resources  of  the  chosen  establishment.  No  detail 
of  expense  was  to  be  considered.  Each  "  plat  " 
as  it  was  presented  was  discussed  and  partaken 
of  with  its  priceless  accompaniment  of  a  choice 
vintage — and  this  at  a  period  when  Harmsworth 


ALFRED  HARMSWORTH  217 

himself  would  have  been  just  as  pleased  with  simple 
food — and  wine  of  which  he  partook  quite  sparingly. 
I  am  not  sure  that  he  ever  knew  Phil  May,  but 
for  his  work  he  had  the  most  whole-hearted  admira- 
tion. It  came  to  his  knowledge  that  at  Phil's  death 
Mrs.  May  might  find  herself  in  somewhat  straitened 
circumstances.  A  subscription  was  opened  at  once 
at  Carmelite  House,  he  starting  it  with  a  contribution 
of  ^^500,  insisting  that  each  of  his  brothers  in 
the  firm  should  add  a  similar  sum.  This  tribute 
to  a  great  artist  was  only  one  of  innumerable  bene- 
factions he  was  ever  ready  to  bestow,  in  which  he 
revealed  his  keen  appreciation  of  real  genius.  No 
man  was  ever  quicker  to  respond  to  the  call  of  genuine 
ability  in  whatever  walk  of  life  it  might  be  exhibited. 


CHAPTER  XV 

CECIL  RHODES  AND  EARL  OF  ABERDEEN 

PAINTING  the  portraits  of  famous  men  is 
not  all  unalloyed  joy  as  many  people 
imagine  it  to  be.  When  Alfred  Harmsworth 
commissioned  me  to  paint  the  picture  of 
Cecil  Rhodes  he  made  the  stipulation  that,  however 
rude  Mr.  Rhodes  might  be,  I  would  not  be  deterred 
from  the  completion  of  my  task.  It  was  arranged 
that  Mr.  Harmsworth  should  take  me  to  breakfast 
with  Rhodes  at  his  rooms  in  the  Burlington. 

I  called  for  Alfred  Harmsworth  at  Berkeley 
Square,  and  as  we  stood  in  the  hall  while  his  carriage 
waited  at  the  door  filled  with  my  easel  and  other 
implements  of  my  trade  he  emphasized  this  point 
by  saying,  "  Now  it  is  no  good  our  starting  unless 
you  are  prepared  to  go  on  with  it  whatever  happens." 
All  this  preamble  was  by  no  means  reassuring, 
but  as  a  matter  of  fact,  accustomed  as  I  was  to  all 
the  varied  vexations  inseparable  from  one's  vocation, 
I  felt  that  Alfred  Harmsworth  was  taking  rather 
a  boyish  delight  in  the  torture  he  was  trying  to 
inflict  by  anticipation,  and  was  making  a  mountain 
out  of  a  mole-hill. 

We  arrived  to  find  the  hall  and  staircase  to  Mr. 
Rhodes'    rooms   at   the   Burlington   crowded   with 

2lS 


CECIL  RHODES  219 

Pressmen  and  a  strange  variety  of  persons  full  of 
plans  and  suggestions,  inseparable  from  the  entourage 
of  a  man  who  had  created  himself  a  sort  of  king  in 
his  own  right.  It  was  quite  obvious  that  we  were 
expected,  a  passage  was  made  for  us,  and  we  were 
immediately  made  free  of  the  establishment. 

Mr.  Rhodes  presently  emerged  from  his  dressing- 
room,  fully  armed  with  a  strange,  far-away  look, 
visualizing  nothing  nearer  than  the  Matoppo  Hills. 
He  took  his  place  at  the  head  of  his  table,  around 
which  were  grouped  many  distinguished  men. 

I  was  naturally  much  interested  to  meet  again 
the  late  George  Wyndham,  whom  I  had  not  seen  for 
many  years.  He  was  private  unpaid  secretary 
to  Arthur  Balfour  at  the  Irish  Office  during  the 
time  I  was  painting  Balfour's  portrait  for  Henry 
Lucy,  and  he  certainly  was  the  handsomest  and  most 
distinguished-looking  man  I  have  ever  had  the 
pleasure  of  meeting.  In  the  interim  he,  himself, 
had  been  Irish  Secretary — always  a  thankless  job. 
I  have  known  a  round  dozen  of  them,  beginning 
with  "  Buckshot  "  Forster,  and  ending  with  Shortt, 
and  I  never  heard  that  any  one  of  them  really 
at  bottom  felt  his  heart  in  the  business. 

But  I  must  not  forget  the  breakfast  party  at  the 
Burlington.  Before  the  guests  took  their  places  at 
table  I  consulted  Arthur,  the  head-waiter,  told  him 
that  my  business  there  was  the  painting  of  his 
master's  portrait,  and  sought  his  advice  as  to  the 
arrangement  of  my  impedimenta — no  joke  when  you 
find  yourself  the  only  busy  man  in  an  assembly 
of  chatty  people,  bent  upon  making  the  best  of  an 
opportunity  for  listening   to   any  stray  crumb   of 


220        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

comfort  that  might  fall  from  the  rich  man's 
table. 

As  soon  as  the  breakfast  babble  was  in  full  flow, 
I  left  my  seat  and  took  up  my  position  at  the  easel. 
Rhodes  never  noticed  my  absence  from  the  board 
until  the  end  of  the  meal,  when  he  somewhat  fiercely 
demanded  what  I  was  doing. 

"As  a  matter  of  fact  I  am  painting  a  three- 
quarter  view  of  your  face,  Mr.  Rhodes,"  I  replied. 

He  suddenly  assumed  an  attitude  of  much 
agitation :  "  Have  you  ever  painted  anyone  before  ?  " 

Alfred  Harmsworth  stepped  into  the  breach, 
saying :  "  Mr.  Ward  has  painted  most  of  the 
Cabinet  during  the  last  twenty  years." 

"  Then  why  does  he  embark  on  a  three-quarter 
view  of  me  ?  Look  here,"  he  shouted,  full-facing 
me  as  he  rose  from  his  chair,  "  I  will  either  be  painted 
full-face  like  this — or^like  this,"  and  he  turned  his 
back  upon  me.  I  very  gently  remarked  that  I 
preferred  the  front  view.  "  That's  all  right ;  now 
we  understand  each  other." 

This  necessitated  a  lightning  alteration,  during 
which  Mr.  Rhodes  stepped  across  to  inspect  the  pro- 
gress of  the  work.  To  this  I  demurred,  saying, 
"  It  is  not  fair  that  you  should  see  it  in  its  transition 
stage." 

This  did  not  stop  him  for  a  moment.  He  strode 
hastily  across,  and  with  one  swift  glance,  he 
exclaimed,  "  Look  !  He's  crying  !  He's  lost  his  wife  ! 
I  never  had  a  wife  !  It's  the  damndest  thing  I  ever 
saw  in  my  life  !  "  And  with  this  parting  shot  he 
swept  from  the  room. 

"  The  damndest  thing  I  ever  saw  "  was  repeated 


CECIL  RHODES  221 

through  the  next  room  and  down  the  grand  staircase. 
Out  into  the  hall  I  could  hear  the  echo.  Bang  went 
the  front  door  and  even  out  into  the  street  I  fancied 
I  could  trace  sounds  of  "  damndest  thing  I  ever  saw." 

This  was  too  much  even  for  me.  I  called  his 
servant.  "  Where  is  Mr.  Rhodes  ?  "  "  He  has  left 
the  house,  Sir."  "  I  will  leave  it  too,  and  never  enter 
it  again."  My  things  were  packed  into  a  cab  and 
away  I  drove.  Cooling  down  later  in  the  peace  of 
my  own  domain  I  remembered  my  compact  with 
Alfred  Harmsworth  that  nothing  should  deter  me 
from  completing  my  task  ;  so  the  following  m_orning 
found  me  again  at  my  easel  at  the  Burlington. 

Mr.  Rhodes  entered  as  usual  but  with  no  greeting 
of  any  sort  on  either  side.  Later  he  came  across  to 
see  the  picture,  and  said,  "  Now,  that's  all  right. 
I  didn't  like  it  yesterday." 

"  No,"  I  replied,  "  you  said  so." 

"  Ah,  well,  you  are  making  good.  You  must  dine 
to-night ;  there  are  all  sorts  of  important  people 
coming  and  we  will  have  the  picture  on  view." 

Cecil  Rhodes  was  a  great  host  and  entertained 
in  princely  style.  His  breakfast  parties  were  mainly 
of  a  political  and  business  character,  but  at  dinner 
he  received  his  familiars,  and  I  noticed  that  there 
was  always  present  some  great  lady  of  distinguished 
station  in  society.  The  Duchess  of  Abercorn  was 
the  principal  guest  on  this  occasion. 

We  were  asked  for  eight  o'clock,  and  on  the  stroke 
of  that  hour  I  duly  presented  myself  to  find  Rhodes 
and  his  great  friend  Sir  Charles  Metcalf,  the  eminent 
engineer  with  whom  he  lived,  sitting  in  the  salon 
minus  coat,   collar  and  waistcoat — resting  after  a 


222        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

strenuous  day  in  the  City.  I  was  welcomed  cordially, 
but  was  a  trifle  surprised  to  find  my  host  en 
deshabille  at  the  moment  when  his  guests  might 
be  expected  to  arrive.  At  that  moment  Rhodes' 
faithful  and  efficient  black  servant  swooped  into 
the  room  and  literally  carried  off  his  master,  saying 
that  the  Duchess  was  on  the  stairs  and  that  he 
must  hurry  up  and  dress.  They  disappeared — and 
reappeared  suitably  garbed,  as  if  by  magic,  in  the 
swiftest  time  on  record. 

The  rest  of  the  guests  having  arrived,  we  proceeded 
to  the  dining-room,  where  our  host  (divested  of  the 
cares  of  State  and  business)  was  as  jolly  as  the  pro- 
verbial "  sand  boy."  After  dinner  he  provided  for  our 
entertainment  a  private  cinema  show — at  that  time 
quite  an  innovation  and  novelty.  One  of  the  moving 
pictures  shown  was  a  representation  taken  that 
morning  of  Mr.  Rhodes  and  Sir  Charles  Metcalf 
taking  their  early  morning  ride  in  the  "  Row." 
It  amused  me  hugely  to  notice  how  artfully  Rhodes 
had  managed  to  dodge  the  cinema  operator  so  that 
it  was  mostly  Sir  Charles  who  was  seen  jogging 
along  the  "  ladies'  mile." 

Mr.  Rhodes  constantly  called  our  attention  to 
the  picture,  ejaculating  :  "  There  you  are  again — 
Sir  Charles  ! — Sir  Charles  !  "  But  I  was  a  little 
shocked  to  observe  that  the  great  Sir  Charles — a 
man  of  huge  frame  and  massive  preportions — full 
of  excellent  fare,  and  fatigued  by  a  long  day  in 
the  City,  had  fallen  into  a  deep  slumber  and  was 
snoring  like  a  grampus.  I  hoped  that  in  deference 
to  the  presence  of  the  Duchess  Mr.  Rhodes  would 
arouse  his  friend.    Not  a  bit  of  it !    All  the  notice 


CECIL  RHODES  223 

taken  by  him  of  the  stentorian  din  was  to  draw 
the  attention  of  the  great  lady  to  the  sound  by 
remarking  to  her,  jocularly  :  "  Orchestra,  Duchess  ! 
Orchestra  !  " 

Charles  Furse  received  a  commission  from  a 
college  at  Oxford  to  paint  a  portrait  of  Cecil  Rhodes. 
Now,  if  Rhodes  had  any  tenderness  of  any  kind  it 
was  his  unfailing  affection  for  his  Alma  Mater,  and 
he  promptly  invited  Furse  out  to  his  place  at 
Groote  Schuur,  in  South  Africa.  On  his  arrival 
he  insisted  that  his  guest  wanted  toning  up,  saying, 
"  What  you  want  is  some  big  game  shooting." 

He  organized  an  expedition  for  his  guest,  and  when 
Furse  returned  from  a  most  successful  fortnight's 
sport,  full  of  energy  and  keenness  to  commence  his 
work,  the  real  object  of  his  visit,  he  found  that 
Rhodes  had  returned  to  England.  As  far  as  I  know 
the  picture  was  never  done. 

Even  those  in  high  places  were  not  free  from  the 
rough  edge  of  Rhodes'  tongue.  During  the  time 
I  was  painting  his  portrait  (and  my  experience  was 
lurid  enough) ,  Rhodes  told  me  that  he  was  also  sitting 
to  "  Fildees,"  as  he  persisted  in  calling  Sir  Luke 
Fildes,  R.A. 

On  one  of  these  mornings  he  appeared  to  be  ex- 
ceedingly wroth,  and  he  told  me  the  details  of 
the  rupture  he  had  just  had  with  "  Mr.  Fildees." 
It  seemed  that  a  little  friction  had  occurred  during 
the  third  or  fourth  sitting,  and  Rhodes  had 
expressed  himself  as  being  entirely  dissatisfied  with 
the  progress  of  the  work,  which  nettled  Sir  Luke 
Fildes  exceedingly. 

Thereupon  Rhodes  remarked,   "  Look  here,  Mr. 


224       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

"  Fildees,"  what  sort  of  an  impression  do  I  make 
upon  you  when  I  enter  this  room  ?  Is  there  any 
feehng  of  irritation  ?  " 

"  Well,  since  you  ask  me,"  replied  Sir  Luke, 
"  I  am  bound  to  say  there  is." 

"  Now,"  said  Rhodes,  "  that's  precisely  the  effect 
you  have  upon  me,  and  I  am  never  coming  here 
again "^ — "and  what  is  more,"  said  he  to  me,  as  he 
related  the  story,  "  I  have  just  sent  my  secretary 
with  a  cheque  to  pay  for  the  portrait  and  bring  it 
here,  and  as  soon  as  it  arrives  I  will  burn  it  in  front 
of  you.  And  if  he  refuses  to  surrender  it,  I  will  have 
the  law  on  him  for  breach  of  contract." 

As  I  expected,  Sir  Luke  Fildes  very  rightly  declined 
to  accept  the  cheque  and  refused  to  relinquish  the 
unfinished  picture.  Rhodes  was  furious,  especially 
upon  finding  that  he  could  not  enforce,  with  all  his 
wealth,  the  delivery  of  an  unfinished  picture  by  an 
artist  who  had  any  respect  for  his  work. 

Cecil  Rhodes  certainly  possessed  qualities  of  mind 
and  manner  which  singled  him  out  in  any  company 
where  he  might  be  found.  Luscombe  Searelle  told 
me  that  he  was  present  at  the  final  great  meeting 
convened  for  the  consolidation  of  the  De  Beers 
Mines.  Rhodes,  of  course,  was  there,  but  took  little 
part  in  the  preliminary  discussion.  Then  one  of  the 
Directors  rose  and  suggested  that  the  Combine 
would  find  themselves  involved  in  an  overwhelming 
loss  should  the  demand  for  diamonds  drop  in  con- 
sequence of  their  ceasing  to  be  fashionable. 

Rhodes  thereupon  broke  his  silence  :  "So  long 
as  men  are  foolish  and  women  are  vain  the  demand 
for  diamonds  will  continue." 


'lilK    R  I  .    llilN.    |()SKI'll    C   II  AMI'.KKI.AIN. 
I''r(im  the  piituix-  in  the  l<i-f<iriii  Cliil)  p;uiilcil  l>y  I'.dwiii  A    Ward. 


CECIL  RHODES  225 

It  will  be  remembered  how  Rhodes  returned  to 
this  country  to  appear  before  the  Commission 
created  to  enquire  into  the  Jameson  Raid.  Taken 
all  in  all,  the  enquiry  was  not  a  very  convincing 
performance  from  any  point  of  view  and  Rhodes 
returned  to  South  Africa.  When  the  question  of 
re-opening  the  enquiry  was  under  consideration, 
and  whether  it  would  be  possible  to  persuade 
Rhodes  to  appear  again,  the  late  Mr.  George  Pauling, 
the  famous  contractor,  and  an  old  friend  of  Rhodes, 
was  sent  for  by  Mr.  Joseph  Chamberlain. 

"  I  hear  you  are  returning  to  South  Africa  and 
will  be  seeing  Rhodes.  Please  ask  him  if  he  would 
be  willing  to  appear  again  before  the  Commission  if 
the  enquiry  were  re-opened." 

On  his  return  from  South  Africa,  Mr.  Pauling  was 
again  sent  for  by  Mr.  Chamberlain.  "  Well,  what 
did  Mr.  Rhodes  say  ?  " 

"  He  said,  '  Yes.  I  will  come  again,  but  this  time 
I  will  tell  the  truth.'  " 

After  a  long  pause  Mr.  Chamberlain  said,  "  I 
wonder  what  he  meant  ?  " 

Rhodes  was  a  great  friend  of  the  late  W.  T.  Stead, 
although  they  took  such  prominent  and  violently 
opposed  sides  about  the  Boer  War.  I  painted 
Rhodes'  portrait  after  the  Jameson  Raid,  and  before 
the  Boer  War.  Even  he  could  be  mistaken,  for  he 
said  :  "  Mind  you,  in  spite  of  the  raid  there  will  be 
no  war."  He  told  me  that  he  and  Parnell  had  much 
in  common.  In  fact,  it  will  be  remembered  that  he 
subscribed  £10,000  to  the  Parnell  Fund — and  I 
never  discovered  that  he  was  usually  lavish  in  his 
benefactions. 


226       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Stead  was  an  interesting  personality,  fiercely  in 
earnest  and  violent  in  his  views  about  men  and 
things.  The  portrait  I  did  of  him  was  painted  for 
Alfred  Harmsworth.  Stead  said  of  him  :  "I  love 
Alfred  Harmsworth,  but  he  lacks  continuity ;  the 
fact  is  he  wants  salvation." 

A  great  friendship  had  existed  between  Stead  and 
Sir  Charles  Dilke,  and  I  was  curious  to  know  his 
reasons  for  hounding  the  latter  out  of  public  life  by 
an  incessant,  pitiless  crusade  in  the  "  Pall  Mall 
Gazette,"  of  which  Stead  was  editor  at  that  time. 
He  told  me  that  Dilke  swore  to  him  that  he  was 
innocent  of  the  charges  brought  against  him  and 
that,  therefore,  when  Dilke  failed  to  go  into  the 
witness-box  at  the  first  hearing  of  the  divorce 
proceedings,  he  never  ceased  calling  public  attention 
to  the  fact  until  the  Queen's  Proctor  was  asked  to 
intervene,  with  the  result  that  Dilke's  chance  of 
becoming  Prime  Minister  was  dished  for  ever. 

Stead  indulged  in  many  incongruous  friendships, 
the  late  Czar  for  instance,  and  while  at  work  upon 
his  portrait,  in  the  background  of  which  there  was  a 
picture  on  the  wall,  I  called  his  attention  to  this, 
and  suggested  that  possibly  he  might  like  me  to 
introduce  by  this  means  a  picture  of  some  great 
friend,  such  as  Cardinal  Manning,  for  instance.  He 
fell  in  with  the  idea  at  once,  but  without  the  slightest 
hesitation  plumped  for  the  Countess  of  Warwick. 

The  Boer  War  was  then  at  its  height,  and  he  was 
subjected  to  much  petty  persecution  for  his  violent 
pro-Boer  attitude.  He  shocked  even  me  by  declaring 
that  we  should  be  beaten,  and  saying  he  devoutly 
hoped  we  should. 


CECIL  RHODES  227 

Referring  to  my  picture  of  Cecil  Rhodes  he 
comforted  me  by  the  information  that  Hawksley, 
the  soUcitor  to  the  Chartered  Company,  told  him 
that  Rhodes  remarked  in  his  hearing  that  "  Edwin 
Ward  was  the  only  artist  who  had  never  bored 
him." 

Whatever  people  may  say  for  or  against  Rhodes, 
Oxford  meant  more  to  him  than  all  his  great  achieve- 
ments— and  they  were  considerable  enough — and 
there  you  find  what  a  great  Britisher  he  was. 
Tradition  all  the  time.  Of  course  he  may  have 
required  the  consolation  of  tradition,  as  report 
records  that  many  of  his  methods  towards  his 
millions  were,  to  say  the  least  of  it,  short-circuited. 

This  is  quite  true  of  all  the  men  who  have 
"  collared  the  counters  " — given  some  lucky  moment 
they  went  in  off  the  deep  end,  regardless  of  conse- 
quences. Some,  like  Jabez  Balfour,  got  "  time," 
others,  like  Whitaker  Wright,  took  eternity.  As 
for  the  rest — who  came  away  with  the  "  stuff  " — I 
never  noticed  that  they  were  happier  than  the  folk 
who  never  knew  where  and  when  to  locate  the  next 
pound.  But  while  one  is  on  this  topic  it  is  just  as 
well  to  insist  that,  given  good  conditions,  it  shotild 
be  a  tremendous  asset  to  be  free  entirely  from  the 
humiliation  of  financial  embarrassment  to  which 
many  gifted  people  are  subject. 

I  have  known  many  of  the  millionaires  of  my 
time,  merry  fellows  but  a  thrifty  race.  Why  they 
trouble  to  leave  so  much  money  unspent  always 
puzzles  me.  But  among  the  poor  of  the  earth,  I  have 
found  the  greatest  nobility  of  character.  Free  from 
all  greed  and  absolved  from  suspicion  by  the  penury 


228       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

of  their  position,  they  are  able  to  be  human,  which 
the  rich  man  rarely  is. 

During  the  time  I  was  painting  John  Burns,  just 
after  the  great  dock  strike,  a  millionaire  came  to 
inspect  the  portrait  of  a  relative  of  his  upon  which 
I  was  also  engaged.  He  was  a  German  Jew, 
fabulously  rich,  and  I  gathered  that  he  had  com- 
menced to  suspect  that  perhaps  this  militant  young 
Socialist  would  shortly  be  a  menace  to  his  millions. 
Burns  had  recently  been  in  gaol  for  some  little  affair 
in  Trafalgar  Square  in  conj  unction  with  Cuninghame 
Graham. 

Upon  being  introduced  to  Burns,  old  Shylock 
cheerily  remarked  :  "  Glad  to  meet  you,  Mr.  Burns 
I  had  the  pleasure  of  contributing  towards  the 
support  of  your  wife  while  you  were  in  gaol." 

Dublin  Castle  during  1908  was  in  a  state  of 
ferment.  The  jewels  of  the  Order  of  St.  Patrick  had 
been  stolen.  The  affair  was  steeped  in  deepest 
mystery.  The  wildest  stories  were  circulated,  and 
the  fact  that  those  responsible  for  the  safe  custody 
of  the  jewels  of  rare  historic  interest  and  consider- 
able intrinsic  value  were  not  brought  to  a  public 
trial  gave  rise  to  absurd  rumours  for  which  there 
existed  no  shadow  of  foundation. 

My  business  in  Dubhn  was  the  painting  of  a 
portrait  of  His  Excellency  the  Lord-Lieutenant  the 
Earl  of  Aberdeen. 

Even  under  the  most  favourable  conditions  the 
painting  of  a  portrait  is  an  operation  presenting 
difficulties  of  no  ordinary  character,  but  when  one's 
subject  is  a  man  of  eminence,  whose  every  moment 


w.  r.  SiKAi). 

{"  {'all   Mill  G.izettc"  and  "  Review  c.t  Reviews.") 
l-'rimi  tlif  putiirc  l)y  l-.ilwiii  A    Ward. 


EARL   OF  ABERDEEN  229 

of  every  day  is  absorbed  by  matters  of  urgent  public 
importance,  it  calls  for  unlimited  patience  quite 
outside  the  ordinary  demands  upon  one's  artistic 
accomplishment . 

Arriving  in  Queenstown  about  seven  o'clock  one 
evening,  I  was  met  by  His  Excellency's  carriage  and 
handed  a  note,  saying  that  owing  to  the  crowded 
condition  of  the  Castle  (it  being  unusually  full  of 
guests  for  the  coming  investiture  of  Lord  Castleton 
with  the  order  of  St.  Patrick)  it  had  been  necessary 
to  take  rooms  for  me  at  the  Shelbourne  Hotel  where 
dinner  had  also  been  ordered. 

The  following  morning  there  was  a  telephone 
message  from  the  A.D.C.,  bidding  me  to  luncheon 
at  the  Castle,  where  I  found  a  large  and  distinguished 
company.  Afterwards  I  was  duly  presented  to  their 
Excellencies  and  invited  to  dinner  and  the  dance 
which  was  to  follow,  and  also  informed  that  a  room 
at  the  Castle  had  been  assigned  to  me  for  the  follow- 
ing evening.  No  allusion  was  made  to  the  business 
which  had  brought  me  to  Dublin. 

In  addition  to  the  ordinary  routine  of  their 
engrossing  public  duties,  the  entourage  of  the  Castle 
was  fully  occupied  with  rehearsals  for  the  investiture 
with  the  Order  of  St.  Patrick  of  the  Earl  of  Castleton, 
and  it  was  obvious  that  any  idea  of  commencing 
the  portrait  was  quite  out  of  the  question  for  the 
immediate  present. 

As  the  ceremony  was  to  take  place  the  following 
evening  His  Excellency  gave  me  a  note  which 
procured  for  me  admission  to  a  gallery  whence  I  had 
an  excellent  view  of  the  stately  function.  And  a 
wonderful  spectacle  it  was  in  spite  of  the  fact  that 

Q 


230       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

substitutions  had  to  be  improvised  for  the  stolen 
jewels. 

I  was  afterwards  installed  in  the  State  room 
vacated  by  the  departure  of  Lord  Castleton,  and  as 
a  member  of  the  Castle  "  House  Party  "  attended 
State  concerts,  accompanied  their  Excellencies  to 
church,  football  matches,  flower  shows,  but  still  no 
reference  of  any  kind  whatever  was  made  to  the 
sole  reason  for  my  being  there  at  all  to  paint  a 
portrait  of  His  Excellency  the  Lord-Lieutenant. 

The  A.D.C.'s  were  charming  fellows,  but  all  their 
leisure  was  devoted  to  hunting,  golf,  etc.,  and 
beyond  putting  me  wise  to  the  little  rules  in  vogue 
governing  the  observance  of  etiquette  in  Vice-Regal 
circles,  they  knew  nothing  about  the  portrait,  but 
were  quite  sure  that  His  Excellency  would  never 
have  the  time  to  spare  for  the  sittings. 

I  had  the  luck,  however,  one  day  walking  down 
Sackville  Street,  to  meet  Barton  McGuckin,  a 
famous  old  operatic  tenor  singer  in  his  day — he  was 
also  a  member  of  the  Savage  Club — who  immedi- 
ately insisted  on  introducing  me  to  a  place  where 
the  finest  Irish  whisky  could  be  obtained,  and 
inquired  what  had  brought  me  to  Dublin.  I  told 
him  my  troubles,  and  after  a  follow  of  Irish  whisky, 
he  said  :  "  Now  I  will  tell  you  how  to  set  about  it. 
There  is  a  really  good  fellow  at  the  Castle  ;  go  straight 
to  him  and  tell  him  that  you  are  a  friend  of  mine — 
his  name  is  Max  Green,  he  is  private  secretary  to  the 
Viceroy,  and  he  will  do  all  in  his  power  to  help  you." 

So  collecting  my  materials,  off  I  went  to  the 
room  apportioned  to  Max  Green  and  his  staff.  He 
laughingly  told  me  the  thing  was  impossible  (they 


EARL   OF  ABERDEEN  231 

laugh  at  everything  in  Ireland),  that  His  Excellency 
was  in  his  private  room  receiving  important  deputa- 
tions, many  of  them  being  of  a  highly  confidential 
character. 

I  begged  him  to  assure  His  Excellency  that  I  was 
thoroughly  acclimatized  to  State  secrets,  and  that 
during  the  time  I  was  busy  with  my  brush  they  had 
no  terrors  for  me.  Eventually  I  prevailed  upon 
him  to  usher  me  into  the  presence  where  I  would 
make  my  own  amends,  and  being  left  alone  with 
His  Excellency  I  unfolded  my  plan,  suggesting  that 
should  any  conference  arise  of  such  a  private  nature 
that  my  presence  was  undesirable,  I  could  retire 
into  Max  Green's  room  until  the  danger  was  over. 

To  this  arrangement  Lord  Aberdeen  readily 
assented,  and  I  worked  steadily  for  an  hour  and  a 
half  and  did  quite  a  satisfactory  sketch  of  His 
Excellency,  in  fact  it  was  just  as  good  as  anything 
I  ever  did  afterwards. 

This  room  at  the  Castle  made  an  excellent 
background,  and  I  was  not  a  little  mortified  to 
find  that  the  Court  was  leaving  for  the  Viceregal 
Lodge,  and  that  any  further  sitting  must  be  trans- 
ferred to  Phoenix  Park.  This  meant  making  an 
entirely  fresh  start  under  new  conditions,  and 
having  to  work  my  way  through  a  fresh  batch  of 
State  officials.  However,  I  succeeded  in  making 
the  same  arrangements  as  had  held  good  at  the 
Castle,  and  set  to  work. 

The  Lord  Chief  Justice  had  just  left  the  room  one 
day  after  an  earnest  talk  with  His  Excellency.  The 
matter  did  not  concern  me,  in  fact  I  was  far  too 
busy  with  my  own  work  to  take  much  notice,  but 


232        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

His  Excellency  turned  and  said  :  "A  rather  curious 
case  has  arisen  upon  which  I  should  like  your 
opinion. 

"  There  were  two  brothers  bearing  a  remarkable 
personal  resemblance  to  each  other,  though  in 
character  they  differed  in  every  respect,  for  while 
one  was  sober,  industrious  and  prosperous,  the  other 
brother  was  idle,  dissolute  and  a  sore  anxiety  to  his 
friends  and  relations.  Now  it  appears  that  the 
virtuous  brother  has  become  involved  in  some  legal 
dispute,  with  the  unfortunate  result  that  through 
the  neglect  or  stupidity  of  his  advisers  he  found 
himself  sentenced  to  a  term  of  imprisonment. 

"  By  the  exercise  of  some  ingenuity  the  scapegrace 
brother  contrived  to  substitute  himself,  actually 
serving  the  term  of  imprisonment  incurred  by  this 
otherwise  worthy  brother,  who  was  thus  free  to 
discharge  and  continue  the  direction  of  his  business. 
The  ne'er-do-weel  was  thus  for  once  enabled  to 
contribute  indirectly  to  the  general  welfare  of  the 
family  circle. 

"  This  evasion  of  the  strict  letter  of  the  law  has 
come  to  the  knowledge  of  the  officers  of  the  Crown. 
The  Lord  Chief  Justice  has  been  seeking  my  assent 
to  the  issue  of  a  fresh  warrant  for  the  incarceration 
of  the  actual  offender." 

'*  If  you  are  asking  me,  Sir,"  I  replied,  "  I  should 
certainly  refuse  to  move  in  the  matter.  The  offence 
has  been  more  than  expiated,  and  the  incident 
appears  to  me  to  reflect  the  highest  credit  upon  all 
concerned." 

What  followed  I  know  not,  but  the  Lord- 
Lieutenant  certainly  inclined  to  my  view  of  the  case. 


LEAR   OF   ABERDEEN  233 

In  the  background  of  the  portrait  I  was  paintiag 
of  His  Excellency  there  was  a  ghmpse  of  Phoenix 
Park  seen  through  the  window.  Lord  MacDonnell 
(then  Sir  Antony  MacDonnell)  came  into  the  room 
where  I  was  painting  and,  looking  at  the  portrait, 
said  :  "It  is  rather  remarkable  that  you  should  have 
selected  that  particular  piece  of  Phoenix  Park  for 
the  background  of  His  Excellency's  picture.  Stand- 
ing here  forty  years  ago  Lord  Spencer  (then  Lord- 
Lieutenant)  looking  out  of  this  very  window,  saw 
through  an  opening  on  the  terrace  a  group  of  men 
fighting  and  strugghng  at  the  precise  spot  in  the 
Park  painted  by  you  in  the  background  of  your 
picture. 

"  He  was  watching  his  colleagues,  Lord  Frederick 
Cavendish  and  Mr.  Burke,  being  stabbed  to  death 
and  thought  it  was  merely  one  of  the  many  Irish 
quarrels  common  enough  in  Phoenix  Park  on  any 
Saturday  afternoon." 

The  portrait  was  all  but  completed  when  I  was 
informed  that  the  Court  was  due  to  remove  itself  to 
Portrush,  and  that  if  I  required  any  more  sittings  I 
must  accompany  the  Vice- Regal  party  on  its  journey 
to  the  north.  We  had  barely  been  in  residence 
there  more  than  forty-eight  hours  when  a  sudden 
family  bereavement  called  for  the  immediate 
presence  of  their  Excellencies  in  London. 

The  Chief  A.D.C.  called  me  in  consultation.  It 
appeared  that  he  (Lord  Anson)  and  the  other 
A.D.C.'s  had  duties  of  importance  detaining  them 
in  Ireland.  At  the  same  time  it  was  obvious  that 
their  Excellencies  could  not  travel  to  London 
unattended.     So  it  had  been  suggested  that  as  I 


234       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

was  making  the  journey  in  any  case,  it  would  solve 
the  difficulty  if  I  would  undertake  the  onerous 
duties  of  A.D.C.  from  Portrush  to  London.  I 
accepted,  and  after  a  few  rehearsals,  disguised  in  a 
tall  hat  and  frock  coat,  I  was  pronounced  perfect  in 
the  part  and  *'  to  the  manner  born." 

On  arrival  at  certain  points  in  our  progress,  it 
was  a  part  of  our  programme  to  descend  from  the 
Vice-Regal  saloon  to  the  railway  platform  where  a 
deputation  of  Directors,  etc.,  awaited  to  receive  us, 
and  after  a  short  address  of  welcome  from  the  local 
dignitaries  His  Excellency  replied  in  a  few  telling 
phrases,  after  which  we  were  escorted  to  our  saloon 
and  the  journey  was  resumed  as  far  as  the  following 
junction,  where  the  ceremony  was  repeated. 

My  duty  it  was  to  act  as  escort,  standing  by  in 
close  attendance  ;  also,  as  occasion  served  and  when 
so  directed,  I  distributed  certain  sums  as  largesse  to 
deserving  engine-drivers  and  similar  worthies  to 
whose  energy  and  skill  we  were  indebted  for  the 
safe  and  punctual  conduct  of  our  progress  towards 
the  port  of  embarkation. 

At  one  of  these  stopping  places  I  really  became 
of  practical  service.  His  Excellency,  it  appeared,  had 
some  difficulty  in  disengaging  himself  from  the 
attentions  of  a  very  florid  and  voluble  official. 
Turning  to  me  he  remarked  :  "  Give  this  gentleman 
your  attention.  Our  time  is  limited,  and  I  wish  to 
listen  to  the  gentlemen  who  are  presenting  the 
address." 

The  individual  in  question  had  fortified  himself 
in  no  half-hearted  fashion  for  his  share  in  the  day's 
doings,  and  his  eloquence  was  heavily  charged  with 


EARL   OF  ABERDEEN  235 

the  atmospheric  pressure  of  a  railway  refreshment 
room. 

On  resuming  our  journey  His  Excellency  thanked 
me  for  my  assistance  and  asked  :  "  Was  I  right  in 
m}^  diagnosis  regarding  the  chief  engineer  ?  " 

"  Yes,  sir,  I  fear  he  had  overdone  his  final  prepara- 
tions for  the  day's  proceedings." 

At  another  stopping  place  an  untoward  incident 
somewhat  marred  the  official  discharge  of  my 
manifold  duties.  It  happened  in  this  wise.  I  had 
observed  on  the  way  to  Portrush  that  it  was  usual 
for  the  A.D.C.  to  appropriate  the  special  compart- 
ment adjoining  the  saloon  reserved  for  their  Excel- 
lencies, but  as  I  was  alone  they  both  insisted,  with 
the  courteous  considerations  which  characterized 
them  at  all  times,  upon  my  occupying  a  place  in 
their  saloon,  which  was  already  overcrowded  with 
tables,  chairs,  dispatch  cases,  etc.  In  making 
toward  the  exit  from  the  saloon  at  our  final  stopping 
place,  the  satchel,  brimful  of  coin  of  the  realm,  from 
which  we  drew  the  various  sums  for  the  distribution 
of  largesse,  was  the  cause  of  serious  trouble.  The 
strap  of  this  satchel  had  become  entangled  around 
some  article  of  furniture,  and  in  attempting  to  release 
it,  out  rolled  the  money  in  a  silver  stream  all  over  the 
fioor,  under  every  table  and  chair  in  the  compartment. 

The  train  had  already  come  to  a  standstill,  and 
through  the  open  door  of  our  saloon  the  waiting 
deputation  had  a  most  excellent  view  of  His  Excel- 
lency and  his  A.D.C.  snatching  hastily  at  the 
squandered  silver  which  littered  the  floor  of  the 
carriage  and  concealed  itself  under  every  conceiv- 
able article  of  furniture. 


236       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

The  voice  of  Her  Excellency  in  tones  rather  stern, 
awakened  me  to  a  sense  of  my  proper  duties  :  "  Is 
no  one  ready  to  assist  me  in  my  descent  from  this 
carriage  ?  " 

There  was  no  help  for  it — the  loose  silver  had  to  be 
abandoned.  With  my  foot  I  cleared  away  the  spilt 
shilUngs  to  make  a  passage  for  the  progress  of  her 
Excellency,  and  jumping  out  on  to  the  platform 
assisted  her  to  alight.  It  was  my  fault.  Had  I 
thrown  the  silver  to  the  lions  by  leaving  it  where  it 
fell  His  Excellency  would  not  have  felt  obliged  to 
assist  me  in  its  collection,  and  we  should  not  have 
delayed  and  impeded  the  progress  of  Her  Excellency. 
As  it  was  we  salvaged  hardly  any  of  it,  and  I  richly 
merited  my  little  rebuke. 

The  picture  was  eventually  finished  in  my  own 
studio  and  exhibited  at  the  New  Gallery  in  the 
spring  of  1908. 


CHAPTER   XVI 

SOME    OF   MY   SITTERS — AND   OTHERS 

RHODES  thought  very  highly  of  Winston 
Churchill :  "  Mark  my  words/'  he  said, 
"  that  young  fellow  will  go  far."  It 
amused  Rhodes  hugely  to  hear  Winston 
holding  forth  before  a  tableful  of  men  all  old  enough 
to  be  his  grandfather.  This  lad,  full  of  assurance, 
was,  even  in  those  days,  in  no  way  perturbed  by  the 
presence  of  several  Cabinet  Ministers. 

I  remember  him  as  a  red-haired  boy  of  thirteen 
at  the  time  I  was  painting  his  father's  portrait. 
The  picture  had  rather  an  elaborate  background, 
and  Winston  watching  me  working  away  at  the 
accessories  remarked  : 

"  If  I  were  you,  Mr.  Ward,  I  would  paint  in  the 
head  myself,  and  then  pay  some  other  fellow  to 
finish  off  the  chair  and  other  details.  I  learned 
drawing  at  Harrow.  My  master  draws  'em  and  I 
colour  them."  He  followed  this  by  saying  :  "  And 
after  all,  I  don't  see  why  my  father  wants  a  portrait 
of  himself  while  I  haven't  got  a  pony." 

The  picture  of  Lord  Randolph  Churchill  was  one 
of  the  series  of  portraits  I  painted  for  Sir  Henry 
Lucy.  The  collection  comprises  pictures  of  Henry 
Lucy    himself,     Henry    Laboucherc,     Sir    Francis 

237 


238       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Burnand,  Lord  Rosebery,  Lord  Modey,  Arthur 
Balfour,  Joseph  Cowen  of  Newcastle,  Sir  Henry 
Irving,  Joseph  Chamberlain,  Lord  Russell  of 
Killowen,  and  Sir  John  Tenniel. 

Sir  Henry  Lucy,  upon  giving  up  his  town  house 
and  retiring  to  his  country  place  at  Hythe,  presented 
this  collection  of  small  portraits  to  the  Reform  Club, 
where  they  now  hang  in  the  room  known  as  the 
"  Guest  Room." 

Labouchere  was  a  most  amusing  sitter.  The  first 
morning  I  called  at  his  house  in  Queen  Anne's  Gate, 
with  an  introduction  from  Mr.  Henry  Lucy  (as  he 
then  was),  Labouchere  met  me  at  the  top  of  the 
staircase  leading  to  the  drawing-room,  and  as  he 
welcomed  me  he  remarked  :  "  Did  you  notice  a  man 
in  the  hall  as  you  came  through  ?  " 

I  replied  that  I  had  seen  a  man  there  as  I  entered. 

"  Well,"  he  continued,  "  consulting  a  letter  he 
held  in  his  hand,  ''  he  wants  me  to  lend  him  £5. 
Would  you  advise  me  to  do  this  ?  " 

This  was  a  little  disconcerting  at  a  first  interview 
I  have  no  doubt  he  lent  the  fiver,  as  in  spite  of 
all  his  assumption  of  cynical  indifference  he  was 
capable  of  much  real  kindness,  though  the  last 
person  in  the  world  to  admit  it. 

During  the  sittings  for  his  portrait.  Lord  Rose- 
bery was  reading  a  letter  one  morning  as  I  arrived, 
and  the  contents  appeared  to  cause  him  considerable 
amusement. 

"  Do  you  know,"  he  said,  "  if  I  were  a  rich  man 
I  would  pay  Labouchere  a  thousand  a  year  to  write 
me  a  letter  every  morning." 

I  remember  Sir  John  Robinson  telling  me  that  in 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     239 

the  early  days  of  his  association  with  the  "  Daily 
News,"  of  which  Labouchere  was  at  that  time  a 
large  shareholder,  the  financial  position  of  the  paper 
was  in  a  very  ansemic  condition.  Robinson  began  to 
wonder  where  the  money  was  coming  from  to  meet 
the  daily  bill  of  costs,  including  the  item  of  his  own 
salary.  Labouchere  advised  him  not  to  worry  about 
trifles  of  that  kind,  but  to  accept  shares  in  lieu  of 
ready  money. 

Robinson  acted  up  to  this  advice,  and  as  the 
*'  Daily  News  "  became  a  highly  prosperous  property 
it  proved  a  very  lucrative  investment.  Years 
afterwards  Robinson  tried  to  thank  Labouchere  for 
putting  him  into  such  an  exceedingly  good  thing, 
but  Labouchere  said  :  "  My  dear  fellow,  you  are 
quite  mistaken.    I  never  did  anything  of  the  kind." 

Robinson  happening  to  meet  Archibald  Forbes  in 
Fleet  Street  at  the  beginning  of  the  Franco-Prussian 
war,  seized  him  by  the  arm  and  dragged  him  along 
to  his  room  at  the  "  Daily  News  "  office.  "  Now  ! 
Will  you  sign  on  as  war  correspondent  for  the 
*  Daily  News  '  ?  Any  terms  you  like."  Forbes 
assented,  the  necessary  documents  were  duly  signed, 
and  Forbes  rose  to  take  his  leave  and  make  his 
preparations  for  the  campaign ;  but  Robinson 
sternly  refused  to  allow  him  to  leave  the  office  until 
the  moment  arrived  for  catching  his  train  at  Charing 
Cross  to  convey  him  to  the  war  zone. 

"  But  I  must  go  home  to  get  my  kit  and  to  say 
good-bye  to  my  people  !  "  protested  Forbes. 

"  You  will  do  nothing  of  the  sort,"  said  Robinson. 
"  Sit  down  and  make  a  list  of  your  requirements 


240       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

and  I  will  send  out  and  purchase  everything  you 
want,  and  then  see  you  off  by  the  first  train  for  the 
front.  You  were  in  my  pay  and  service  from  the 
moment  this  document  was  signed,  and  I  am  taking 
no  chances  of  any  wealthy  newspaper  proprietors 
tempting  you  to  break  your  contract." 

A  make-shift  bed  was  rigged  up  there  in  Robinson's 
room  at  the  oihce,  and  Forbes  spent  the  night  under 
war  conditions  as  Robinson's  prisoner  in  Bouverie 
Street.  That  these  extreme  measures  were  amply 
justified  is  known  to  every  student  versed  in  the 
history  of  daily  newspapers  of  the  time. 

Archibald  Forbes,  the  father  and  greatest  of  all 
war  correspondents,  forced  the  "  Daily  News  "  into 
premier  position  by  the  brilliance  of  his  contributions 
from  the  seat  of  war,  and  for  many  years  the  paper 
reaped  the  reward  of  the  sagacity,  energy  and  enter- 
prise exercised  by  its  astute  manager  in  the  engage- 
ment as  war  correspondent  of  Archibald  Forbes. 

The  sense  of  music  was  so  entirely  absent  from 
the  com  osition  of  James  Payn  (a  famous  novelist 
and  a  man  of  great  culture  and  refinement)  that  not 
only  was  he  utterly  unable  to  recognize  any  difference 
between  the  airs  of  "  God  Save  the  Queen  "  and 
"  Pop  goes  the  Weasel,"  but  resolutely  refused  to 
believe  there  was  any  difference. 

He  was  also  a  man  of  nimble  wit.  At  a  dinner 
given  to  General  Sir  William  Butler,  the  distinguished 
soldier  and  author  of  a  famous  book,  "  The  Great 
Lone  Land,"  we  were  assembled  in  the  Great  Hall 
of  the  Reform  Club  (of  which  Sydney  Smith,  an  old 
Tory,  once  remarked  :     "I  like  your  room  better 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     241 

than  your  company  ")  awaiting  the  arrival  of  the 
Guest  of  Honour,  when  our  host,  Sir  John  Robinson, 
turned  to  James  Payn,  saying  :  "  By  the  way,  what 
is  the  correct  way  to  address  our  guest,  '  Sir  Wilham  ' 
or  '  General  '7" 

"  Oh,"  replied  Payn,  "  '  Sir  William  '  with  the 
sherry  ;   '  Butler  '  with  the  port." 

Dining  with  Sir  John  at  the  Reform  Club  one 
night,  I  found  him  very  much  perturbed.  It  was  the 
evening  of  the  day  on  which  the  divorce  proceedings 
against  Parnell  had  resulted  in  Captain  O'Shea 
winning  his  case.  Parnell  did  not  defend  the  action 
in  which  damaging  details  about  his  clandestine 
visits  to  O'Shea's  house  and  abrupt  departure  by  a 
fire-escape  were  revealed. 

It  appeared  that  Mr.  Gladstone,  who  was  busy 
with  his  Home  Rule  Bill  at  the  time,  had  received 
an  intimation  from  Parnell  that  he  had  a  perfect 
answer  to  the  allegations  brought  against  him,  and 
now  my  friend,  Sir  John  Robinson,  found  himself 
in  a  most  delicate  and  difficult  position.  As  editor 
of  the  "  Daily  News  "  (at  that  time  the  Government 
organ),  he  had  to  write  a  "  leader "  that  night 
explaining  that  the  Home  Rtde  Bill  must  not  be 
allowed  to  lapse  through  any  prejudice  aroused  by 
the  leader  of  the  Irish  Party  having  made  no  attempt 
to  clear  his  name  in  the  Divorce  Court. 

During  dinner  Labouchere  passed  down  the  room, 
stopped  at  our  table,  and  in  his  sardonic  way  pro- 
fessed to  be  highly  amused  by  the  Parnell  episode. 
"  Fancy,"  he  said,  "  we  were  told  by  members  of 
his  party  that  these  mysterious  disappearances  of 


242       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

their  great  chief  were  only  evidence  of  his  tireless 
and  secret  devotion  to  the  Irish  cause,  while  all  the 
time  he  was  hiding  in  the  kitchen  with  Mrs.  O'Shea." 

I  caU  to  mind  another  occasion  when  the  editor  of 
a  great  daily  paper  found  himself  in  a  difficult 
position.  It  was  the  day  on  which  the  action  for 
libel  brought  by  Lever  against  the  "  Daily  Mail  " 
resulted  in  a  verdict  for  Lever  with  the  colossal 
damages  of  £50,000.  Mr.  Thomas  Marlowe,  the 
editor,  himself  wrote  the  "leader"  deaUng  with  this. 
(I  remember  being  struck  with  the  great  ability  he 
displayed  in  this  difficult  article.)  He  told  me 
afterwards  that  the  editorial  office  of  the  "  Mail  '* 
in  Carmelite  House  was  in  such  a  condition  of  excite- 
ment engendered  by  this  sensational  climax  to  the 
campaign  which  the  "  Mail "  had  waged  against 
Lever  Bros.,  that  he  left  the  premises,  engaged  a 
private  room  at  a  hotel  not  far  away,  and  wrote  his 
"  leader  "  there. 

Irving  was  complex  in  character  as  he  was  accom- 
phshed  in  his  art.  Allied  to  this  he  possessed  a 
perfectly  unique  personality;  this  feature  of  his 
composition  never  failed  to  impress  itself  upon  any 
company  however  distinguished.  Commencing  his 
career  in  the  old  "  barn-storming  "  days,  he  raised 
the  status  of  the  actor  to  one  of  repute  and  respect. 
A  consummate  artist  in  his  calling  and  a  prince  in 
his  dealings  with  his  fellow-men,  it  was  fitting  that 
a  laborious  life  should  be  rewarded  by  a  resting- 
place  within  the  hallowed  precincts  of  Westminster 
Abbey. 


Hl-.NKV    LaDOI'I   HKKK. 

("Truth."; 

From  the  picture  in  the  Keform  (^liih  pMiiiteil  hy  l-.duin  A.  Ward. 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     243 

All  great  men  are  wide  men.  Irving  was  a  wide 
man — he  could  take  tea  with  a  Cardinal  in  the 
boudoir  of  a  Duchess,  and  later,  in  the  small  hours 
of  the  morning,  he  would  sit  with  Dodson  or  some 
similar  boon  companion,  sipping  their  toddy, 
yarning  over  the  old  "  Stock  Company"  days.  No 
man  was  ever  more  faithful  to  old  friendships. 

Discussing  Irving's  inscrutable  personality  with 
Sir  John  Martin  Harvey,  who  had  been  a  member  of 
his  company  for  many  years,  he  told  me  that  it 
was  difficult  to  determine  whether  Irving's  sim- 
plicity was  assumed,  or  merely  made  use  of  to  cloak 
a  somewhat  sardonic  attitude  towards  men  and 
things.  As  an  illustration  of  this  he  told  me  the 
following  little  story.  Being  present  at  a  supper 
party  at  the  old  Beefsteak  Club,  they  were  extolling 
the  marvellous  exploits  of  Nansen,  the  celebrated 
explorer,  who  had  recently  returned  from  his  famous 
expedition  to  the  North  Pole ;  each  member  of  the 
supper  party  vied  with  his  fellow  in  unstinted,  un- 
measured terms,  praising  his  matchless  courage  and 
lofty  enterprise.  "Yes,"  said  Irving,  ''wonderful  man, 
Nansen.    They  tell  me  he  stands  the  cold  so  well." 

At  the  time  I  painted  his  portrait  he  was  appearing 
in  the  production  of  "  Ravcnswood."  Happening  to 
remark  upon  the  fact  I  had  observed  that  during 
an  emotional  passage  in  the  performance  of  her  part 
in  that  play  Miss  Ellen  Terry's  face  was  bathed  in 
real  tears,  Irving  merely  ejaculated  :  "  Ah,  yes,  she 
does  it  every  night." 

Mr.  Gladstone  had  paid  him  a  visit  at  the  Lyceum 
one  evening,  and  being  invited  to  Irving's  dressing- 
room,  expressed  a  strong  desire  to  obtain  a  ghmpse 


244       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

of  the  "  house  "  from  the  stage.  The  curtain  was 
down;  he  was  conducted  to  one  of  the  "wings" 
from  whence  by  sUghtly  pulling  the  curtain  aside  a 
view  of  the  "  house "  could  be  obtained.  But 
Mr.  Gladstone  in  his  impulsive  eagerness  to  see  all 
that  was  to  be  seen,  gripped  the  curtain  with  such 
energy  that  not  only  did  he  get  a  clear  look  of  the 
"  house,"  but  also  presented  the  audience  with  a 
most  excellent  view  of  the  famihar  features  of  the 
Prime  Minister,  upon  which  they  rose  as  one  man, 
bursting  into  loud,  prolonged,  dehghted  calls  of 
**  Bravo  Gladstone." 

Of  all  the  famous  folk  I  have  been  called  upon  to 
paint  surely  Sir  Francis  Burnand,  the  famous  editor 
of  "  Punch,"  was  the  breeziest.  His  humour  was 
fresh,  clean  and  vigorous.  During  the  sittings  for 
his  portrait  he  "faced  the  music"  like  a  man;  the 
only  thing  that  disturbed  his  equanimity  was  the 
sound  made  by  itinerant  musicians.  The  instant 
they  started  he  became  a  madman.  Rushing  to  the 
window  he  flung  it  open  wide  and  shook  his  fist  in  a 
fury  of  passion  at  the  unfortunate  organ  grinder, 
and  if  that  did  not  frighten  him,  he  tore  from  the 
room  downstairs  and  out  into  the  street  and  did  not 
return  until  the  unfortunate  performer  had  been 
moved  on  by  the  pohce ;  then  he  would  return 
breathless,  vowing  vengeance  upon  the  miserable 
man  and  his  monkey.  I  have  known  this  episode 
to  repeat  itself  two  or  three  times  during  the  morning, 
and  very  disturbing  it  was  in  every  sense. 

We  had  many  talks.  In  matters  of  art  Burnand 
was  intolerant  of  anything  but  that  to  which  he  had 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     245 

grown  accustomed.  Thirty-five  years  ago  Sargent 
was  regarded  by  the  vast  majority  of  people  who 
consider  themselves  judges  of  art  as  a  freakish 
innovator,  using  his  great  skill  in  shameless  attempts 
to  surprise  and  startle  the  artistic  public,  and 
striving  to  attract  notoriety  by  merciless  methods 
in  the  portrayal  of  his  sitters. 

I  knew  Sargent  very  slightly,  but  quite  enough  to 
see  that  all  this  was  absolutely  at  variance  with  the 
facts.  Sincerity,  tireless  industry  and  a  modest 
indifference  to  praise  or  blame  were  the  character- 
istics apparent  to  any  impartial  observer., 

Burnand's  intolerance  was  very  marked  as  we 
discussed  the  work  of  this  brilliant  young  American. 
He  would  not  allow  that  his  work  had  any  merit 
whatsoever.  At  last  in  despair  of  convincing  him  or 
affecting  his  judgment  one  iota  I  ventured  to  suggest 
that,  as  a  very  humble  worker  in  the  art  of  painting, 
1  happened  to  know  how  exceedingly  difficult  it  was 
to  paint  as  well  as  that. 

"Difficult,  my  dear  Sir,"  replied  Burnand.  "I 
only  wish  to  God  it  were  impossible." 

As  it  happened,  Burnand  was  sitting  to  Herkomer 
during  the  time  that  I  was  painting  him,  and  oddly 
enough  the  two  portraits  were  on  show  at  the  same 
exhibition  held  at  the  New  Gallery. 

When  I  painted  the  late  Sir  Thomas  Sutherland 
he  was  also  giving  sittings  to  Sargent.  I  was  naturally 
much  interested  to  hear  of  the  progress  of  this  picture, 
and  one  morning  Sir  Thomas  informed  me  that  on 
the  previous  day  he  had  been  to  Sargent  for  the  last 
time    and    that    the    picture    was   completed.      He 


246       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

proceeded  to  describe  the  final  sitting.  The  portrait 
had  been  commissioned  by  the  P.  and  O.  Company, 
and  the  Directors  were  due  to  inspect  the  picture  at 
1.30.  Sargent  had  asked  Sir  Thomas  to  come  about 
12  o'clock.  To  the  surprise  and  consternation  of 
Sir  Thomas,  who  concluded  that  the  work  with 
which  he  was  more  than  satisfied  was  finished, 
Sargent,  without  a  word,  commenced  by  entirely 
obliterating  the  face.  He  then  started  afresh  and 
completely  repainted  the  head  before  the  arrival  of 
the  Directors  of  the  P.  and  O.  Company  an  hour 
and  a  half  later.  It  was  never  touched  again — 
surely  a  tour  de  force  demanding  nerve,  skill  and 
complete  confidence  in  the  consummate  mastery  of 
his  material. 

I  met  Mark  Twain  (S.  L.  Clemens)  at  a  luncheon 
party  given  by  Sir  Henry  Lucy  at  his  famous  flat  in 
Ashley  Gardens.  Surely  no  table  in  a  private  house 
was  ever  laid  that  had  gathered  round  it  from  time 
to  time  such  an  array  of  remarkable  people  from 
every  part  of  the  habitable  globe.  It  was  during  the 
period  when  I  was  at  work  on  the  collection  of 
celebrities  for  Alfred  Harmsworth  (as  he  was  then). 
This  seemed  to  me  an  excellent  opportunity  for 
fixing  up  a  portrait  of  Mark  Twain  and  arranging 
for  the  sittings  right  away.  The  great  humorist 
offered  no  insuperable  objection  to  the  proposition 
and  promised  to  communicate  with  me  as  soon  as 
possible.  In  due  time  a  letter  arrived  saying  that 
all  that  was  necessary  before  proceeding  with  the 
business  was  a  signed  request  from  Mr.  Alfred 
Harmsworth  to  the  effect  that  he  desired  to  add  the 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     247 

portrait  of  Mr.  Clemens  to  the  collection  which  he 
was  forming. 

Hitherto  all  my  arrangements  with  Alfred  Harms- 
worth  had  been  verbal  ones,  and  I  possessed  no 
letter  of  any  kind  to  produce.  However,  I  went 
along  to  Carmehte  House  to  obtain  his  authority  to 
proceed  with  the  portrait  only  to  find  that  he  was 
abroad  and  that  no  correspondence  of  any  kind  was 
to  be  forwarded.  This  was  rather  a  facer,  so  I  put 
the  case  before  his  brothers,  who  were  quite  alive  to 
its  importance  from  the  fact  that  Mark  Twain  was 
not  making  a  prolonged  stay  in  England,  but 
decHned  one  and  all  to  undertake  the  responsibihty 
of  acting  sponsor  for  their  brother  Alfred  in  his 
absence.  Under  the  circumstances  I  made  a  personal 
appeal  to  Mark  Twain,  who  said  :  ''  Why,  you  just 
come  along  and  see  Mrs.  Clemens,  and  what  she  says 
goes." 

The  dear  lady — and  she  was  a  dear  lady — after 
listening  to  my  story,  said,  "Why,  certainly,  Mr. 
Ward;  Ell  bring  him  to  sit  myself  next  Tuesday 
morning  at  eleven  o'clock,  otherwise  he  would  spend 
the  entire  day  trying  to  get  to  you.  He  never  knows 
his  own  way  anywhere." 

What  a  wonderful  httle  man  Mark  Twain  was  ! 
Eairly  punctual  in  arriving,  he  made  himself  quite 
at  home  and  talked,  talked,  talked.  I  never  knew 
any  mortal  could  be  so  incessantly  amusing,  and 
though  he  said  so  much  and  kept  it  up  all  day  long 
there  was  never  an  idle  word  or  one  too  much.  His 
vocabulary  was  studded  with  the  strangest  oaths 
I  ever  listened  to,  but  they  flowed  from  his  lips 
Uke  polished  pearls  and  their  veiled  violence  fell 


248       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

on  your  ears  without  offence,  just  sufficing  to  impart 
a  little  lurid  colour  to  his  conversation,  which 
certainly  did  not  lack  sparkle.  A  little  element  of 
surprise  was  there,  and  he  took  a  mischievous 
delight  in  enlisting  your  sympathy  at  great  length 
with  the  most  subtle  dexterity ;  then  at  last, 
without  warning,  would  come  the  word  like  a  flash 
revealing  every  rung  of  the  ladder  he  had  been  luring 
you  to  climb  in  order  to  let  you  down  with  a  bang 
to  the  bottom. 

Some  of  these  stories  are  more  easily  spoken  than 
written.  He  was  describing  the  absorbing  grip 
of  the  "  call  of  scholarship." 

"  I  had  a  young  friend,"  he  said,  "  whose  sole 
delight  in  life  was  a  passionate  devotion  to  the  study 
of  Homer.  He  devoured  every  atom  that  had  ever 
been  penned  upon  Homer  in  all  the  languages 
known  to  civilization,  and  copies  of  Homer,  in 
innumerable  forms,  shapes  and  sizes,  littered  the 
tiny  cabin  in  which  he  elected  to  live,  far  removed 
from  the  madding  crowd.  Of  frail  physique  and 
slender  means  which  barely  sufficed  to  keep  the  wolf 
from  the  door  of  their  lonely  dwelling,  he  was 
tended  with  loving  care  by  a  sister  whose  devotion 
to  the  study  of  Homer  was  only  second  to  his  own. 
She  shared  to  the  full  his  passionate  absorption  in 
the  worship  day  in  and  week  out  at  the  shrine  of 
Homer  :  Homer  for  breakfast,  Homer  for  dinner, 
Homer  for  tea  and  supper  with  barely  sufficient 
bread  to  keep  body  and  soul  together. 

"  This  scanty  fare  year  after  year  at  length  told 
its  tale  upon  a  frame  weakened  by  suffering  and  just 
kept  alive  by  the  '  flame  of  his  enthusiasm.'    He  died. 


SiK  John  '1"i-.nniki.. 
fPiinch.  "j 

l-'r(im  pictiiro  In  tlic  Ucfdrni  (liih  tirunt<-(l  hy  Kdwiii  A    \\':ird. 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     249 

"His  sorrowing  sister  laid  him  out  in  a  plain 
little  makeshift  of  a  coffin  painted  green.  There 
he  lay  with  a  copy  of  Homer  in  his  right  hand, 
a  copy  of  Homer  in  his  left  hand,  a  copy  of  Homer 
under  his  head,  a  copy  of  Homer  at  his  feet,  and  a 
copy  of  Homer — under  his  asse." 

Mr.  Clemens  was  a  little  late  on  one  occasion  ; 
he  had  been  detained  and  was  obviously  labouring 
under  considerable  annoyance.  He  told  me  all 
about  it  as  follows  :  "I  called  at  your  District 
Postal  Telegraphic  Department.  I  had  an  important 
message  to  send  and  found  quite  a  large  number  of 
people  who  were  there  for  a  similar  purpose. 

"  Seated  at  the  counter  on  the  other  side  of  the 
wire  enclosure  was  a  young  man  quietly  reading  a 
book.  He  appeared  to  be  so  deeply  absorbed  in  the 
matter  it  contained  as  to  be  perfectly  oblivious  of 
the  fact  that  he  was  keeping  twenty  or  thirty  people 
waiting  ;  and  there  was  I,  having  taken  quite  a  lot 
of  pains  in  writing  out  my  telegram,  filling  it  all 
in  according  to  regulations,  one  of  a  group  of  people, 
respectable  in  appearance  and  exhibiting  great 
patience  while  waiting  until  such  time  as  the  young 
nobleman  behind  the  wire  fence  should  deign  to 
deal  with  the  written  message  on  a  telegraphic 
form  which  each  person  held  meekly  in  his  hand. 

"  From  where  I  stood  it  was  not  possible  to  dis- 
cover the  nature  or  style  of  the  book  which  gripped 
him — but,  the  thing  could  not  go  on.  I  said,  '  Young 
man  !  You  are  no  mere  member  of  the  Ro3^al 
Family — you  are  the  Third  Person  in  the  Trinity, 
by  God.' 

"  I  received  immediate  attention." 


250       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

A  portrait  of  Cecil  Rhodes  was  on  view  in  the 
studio  when  Mark  Twain  commenced  his  sittings, 
but  his  vocabulary  became  so  violent  and  varied, 
leaving  no  room  for  doubt  as  to  his  views  regarding 
the  policy  of  the  British  in  South  Africa  and  the 
part  played  in  it  by  Cecil  Rhodes,  that  I  was  compelled 
to  move  the  picture  out  of  the  range  of  his  vision. 
I  was  a  little  surprised  to  find  that  he  had  no  good 
word  to  say  for  the  works  of  Charles  Dickens.  He 
seemed  to  be  quite  blind  to  his  qualities,  and  for  the 
life  of  him  he  failed  to  see  where  the  humour  came  in. 

The  only  person  who  really  seemed  to  interest 
him  was  the  queer  little  slipshod  Irish  maid-of-all- 
work  who  served  our  simple  meals.  God  had 
certainly  neglected  to  supply  her  with  good  looks. 
Undersized,  unshapely,  she  was  just  an  oddity  and 
might  have  posed  for  the  Marchioness  in  Dickens, 
"  Old  Curiosity  Shop  "  ;  but  her  face  shone  like  the 
sun  and  a  radiant  smile  made  you  forget  the  un- 
Icindness  of  the  Creator  in  the  assembling  of  her 
features.  Mark  Twain  took  to  her  from  the  first, 
and  when  he  departed  he  presented  Kean  with  a 
complete  signed  edition  of  his  works.  Just  before 
this  I  had  been  engaged  upon  portraits  of  the 
Harmsworth  brothers, and  two  or  three  of  the  younger 
ones  had  chaffed  Kean  unmercifully  and  despatched 
her  upon  all  sorts  of  whimsical  errands,  for  which  I 
am  bound  to  say  they  tipped  her  lavishly.  When 
Mark  Twain's  picture  was  completed  I  asked  Kean 
what  she  thought  of  Mr.  Clemens.  She  signified 
her  complete  approval,  adding,  "  Wot  a  relief 
after  them  'Arms worths." 

The  picture  was  framed  and  delivered  to  Alfred 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     251 

Harmsworth  at  Carmelite  House.  In  the  course  of 
time  I  received  a  communication  from  Mr.  Sutton, 
his  secretary.  It  ran  :  "  Mr.  Harmsworth  says  that 
he  does  not  know  Mark  Twain,  he  has  never  read 
any  of  his  writings  and  he  does  not  want  his  portrait. 
Will  you  kindly  have  it  removed  as  soon  as  possible." 

About  a  year  afterwards  I  was  asked  to  call  at 
Berkeley  Square  to  see  Mr.  Harmsworth. 

"  What  have  you  done  with  the  picture  you 
painted  of  Mark  Twain  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  It  is  still  in  my  possession." 

"  Well,  I  want  to  buy  it.  I  have  just  returned 
from  America  where  I  met  Mark  Twain  many 
times.  He  is  the  only  really  funny  man  I  have  ever 
known.  Colonel  Harvey  of  Harper  Bros.,  has  been 
exceedingly  kind  to  me,  and  I  want  to  present 
him  with  your  portrait  of  Mark  Twain,  for  whom 
he  entertains  the  greatest  possible  regard." 

"  Cast  your  bread  upon  the  waters  and  it  shall 
return  to  you  after  many  days." 

Whatever  else  you  may  say  about  the  group  of 
craftsmen  in  the  art  of  painting  who  flourished 
around  the  years  1880  to  1890,  it  must  be  conceded 
that  there  was  a  completeness  about  their  pro- 
ductions which  is  often  absent  from  the  work  of  many 
of  the  men  whose  pictures  are  all  the  rage  in  the 
year  1923. 

However  different  in  style,  and  they  differed  in 
idea,  conception,  technique  and  appeal,  they 
delivered  the  goods.  Frith,  Alma  Tadema,  Burne- 
Jones,  Leighton,  Napier  Hemy,  Holman  Hunt, 
Millais,    Hook,    Sant — all    in    their    separate    and 


252        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

different  ways  left  no  misgivings  in  your  mind 
that  they  had  left  off  because  they  could  not  trust 
themselves  to  the  fatigue  of  finishing  anything 
upon  which  they  had  embarked.  From  foundation 
to  skylight,  like  it  or  like  it  not,  their  work  was 
finished,  fit  for  habitation.  It  "  gets  my  goat " 
when  the  critics  compare  the  muddled  smears 
of  the  moderns  with  the  mastery  of  men  like  Turner 
and  Constable,  Muller  and  Crome.  Their  jargon 
gets  more  and  more  attenuated  as  each  fresh 
impertinence  is  acclaimed  as  another  corner-stone 
in  the  Temple  of  Art. 

Millais  might  have  been  likened  to  a  splendid 
salmon— handsome,  impulsive,  the  very  embodiment 
of  fearless  energy  and  directness.  Other  fish  who 
moved  in  the  artistic  waters  of  those  days  included 
the  lordly  Leighton,  cultured  and  accomplished  ; 
Prinsep,  Calderon,  Watts,  of  course,  lofty  in  his 
work  and  in  his  life  ;  Sant,  whom  I  never  knew  ; 
Frith,  a  great  fellow  full  of  the  milk  of  human 
kindness,  with  a  quiet  dignity  all  his  own,  and  as 
a  raconteur  at  table  second  to  none  ;  Albert  Moore 
(why  he  was  never  elected  to  the  R.A.  passes  my 
comprehension),  accomplished  and  gifted,  rather 
a  recluse  but  very  likeable,  living  only  for  his  art 
and  very  individual  at  that. 

I  heard  it  stated  that  at  each  election  for  the 
associateship  Leighton  always  gave  his  vote  for 
Albert  Moore,  but  the  latter  had  neglected  to  make 
himself  persona  grata  with  the  rest  of  the  "  Forty," 
and  so  passed  away  minus  the  magic  R.A.  to  his 
name,  although  his  brother,  Henry  Moore,  the  great 
painter   of   sea-scapes,    was   elected   years   before. 


The  Rt.  Hon.  I.okd  Russki.i.  ok  Kii.i.ow  i:n,  I.okd  Chikk  Jistick  ok  Knch.and. 

Krom  the  pictiiri-  in  tlic  Reform  (  lub  p.iiiitcil  by  l-'.dwiii  A    \\;iril. 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     253 

Burgess,  a  great  and  finished  gentleman,  was  the  only 
member  of  that  august  body  (many  of  whom  are 
and  have  been  my  personal  friends)  rash  enough 
to  suggest  that  he  would  be  glad,  whenever  I  thought 
fit,  to  put  down  his  name  as  proposer  for  my 
election  to  the  R.A. 

Burne- Jones,  elected  an  Associate  of  the  R.A. 
on  the  condition  that  the  full  R.A.  should  follow 
swiftly,  exhibited,  so  far  as  I  remember,  only  one 
picture  at  the  R.A.  and  a  very  fine  one  too,  "  The 
Depths  of  the  Sea."  Rossetti  and  his  crowd  made  a 
great  splash,  but  his  reputation  as  a  poet  will  remain 
when  bis  pictures  are  forgotten. 

Sir  Edward  Burne-Jones,  the  father  of  the  present 
Sir  Philip  Burne-Jones,  was  associated  in  fairly 
close  friendship  with  an  artistic  group  of  socialistic 
tendencies,  some  of  whom,  including  William  Morris 
and  Walter  Crane,  were  extremely  pronounced  in 
their  views.  When  Burne-Jones  was  offered  and 
accepted  a  baronetcy,  these  friends  expressed 
indignant  surprise  at  this  treachery.  Burne-Jones 
replied  that  he  "  was  very  sorry,  but  Philip  cried  so." 

Alfred  Gilbert  I  knew,  a  great  artist,  quite 
unappreciated  by  the  crowd,  but  universally 
admitted  by  his  fellow-craftsmen  to  be  the  greatest 
sculptor  since  Alfred  Stevens,  who  designed  the 
Wellington  Memorial  now  in  St.  Paul's  Cathedral. 
Stevens  evinced  consummate  accomplishment  in 
any  material — even  as  a  painter  he  was  as  good  as 
the  best.  A  visit  to  the  Tate  Gallery  will  demon- 
strate this  fact  beyond  all  question. 

Alfred  Gilbert  now  lives  at  Bruges.  The  devotion 
he  bestowed  upon  his  art  was  out  of  all  proportion 


254       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

to  his  capacity  for  managing  the  commercial  side 
of  his  affairs,  with  the  disastrous  result  that  in  the 
height  of  his  fame  he  was  declared  a  bankrupt, 
resigned  his  membership  of  the  Royal  Academy 
and  sought  sanctuary  and  peace  in  that  quaint  old 
backwater  of  Belgium. 

In  company  with  my  old  friend,  St.  John 
Harmsworth,  I  paid  a  visit  to  Gilbert  at  Bruges 
some  ten  years  ago.  There  we  found  him,  brilHant 
as  ever  and  quite  uncomplaining,  working  away  as 
well  as  his  broken  health  would  permit.  He  told 
me  a  dramatic  story,  typical  of  his  contempt  for  the 
Philistine  treatment  he  had  experienced  at  the  hands 
of  his  British  (so-called)  patrons. 

On  the  night  previous  to  the  day  that  heralded 
the  seizure  of  his  goods,  chattels  and  works  of  art, 
representing  the  strenuous  endeavour  of  a  lifetime, 
he  gave  a  great  party  on  this,  the  eve  of  his  downfall 
and  invited  all  the  famous  folk  of  his  time.  When 
in  the  small  hours  of  the  morning,  the  last  guest 
had  departed,  he  hired  in  a  gang  of  men  armed  with 
pickaxe,  crowbar  and  hammer  to  smash  all  the  plaster 
casts  of  the  great  works  to  which  the  best  years  of 
his  life  had  been  devoted.  The  idea  of  these  children 
of  his  brain  being  carted  away  and  exposed  for  sale 
in  the  Caledonian  Market  could  not  be  endured. 

When  the  sheriff  and  his  men  arrived  at  nine 
o'clock  it  was  to  take  possession  of  premises  knee 
deep  in  splintered  plaster  of  Paris,  and  all  the 
"  empties  "  and  remains  of  a  notable  feast. 

One  of  Gilbert's  many  stories,  and  he  is  a  great 
teller  of  stories,  illustrates  the  unwisdom  of  the  man 
with  milhons  airing  his  money-manner  in  order  to 


SOME  OF  MY  SITTERS— AND  OTHERS     255 

impress  people  with  manners  but  no  money.  Cecil 
Rhodes  called  at  Gilbert's  studio  to  commission 
him  to  execute  some  designs  for  South  Africa. 
Gilbert  had  prepared  some  small  wax  sketch-figures 
to  indicate  the  sort  of  thing  required  :  it  will  be 
remembered  by  all  who  know  Gilbert's  work  how 
suggestive  and  beautiful  these  small  wax  figures 
always  were. 

Rhodes  came  in  in  his  great  clumsy  manner, 
which  was  very  upsetting  to  people  unprepared  for 
his  peculiarities,  and  being  shown  the  little  wax 
models,  blurted  out  that  he  "  not  was  out  to  furnish 
a  toyshop."  "  I  want  something  big  !  Big  !  Can't 
you  show  me  anything  I  want  ?  " 

This  was  too  much  for  Alfred  Gilbert,  who  quietly 
conducted  Rhodes  and  his  party  to  the  door,  with 
the  remark,  "  I  know  exactly  the  kind  of  thing  you 
want,  and  you'll  find  it  in  the  Euston  Road.  .  .  . 
Good  day  !  " 

It  appears  that  Rhodes  knew  that  he  had  gone 
too  far  and  made  several  attempts  to  arrange  another 
meeting  with  Gilbert,  but  with  no  result. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

WHISTLER 

WHISTLER,     in     common     with    many 
remarkable  men  I  have  met,  possessed 
to    a    pecuHar    degree    the    power    of 
compelUng  devotion.     He  was  always 
surrounded  and  waited  upon  hand  and  foot  by  a 
group  of  young  men,  all  clever  in  their  different 
ways,  who  called  him  "  Master." 

During  his  brief  reign  as  President  of  the  Society 
of  British  Artists  he  made  a  bold  attempt  to  eliminate 
all  that  was  *'  British "  from  that  old-fashioned 
and  highly  respectable  institution.  He  and  his 
devoted  band  of  followers  made  a  point  of  appearing 
in  evening  dress  at  a  period  when  the  Master  and 
his  men  must  have  lacked  the  price  of  a  meal  at 
all  in  keeping  with  their  highly  superior  appearance. 
When  Whistler  wanted  a  thing  he  went  after  it 
with  an  utter  contempt  for  consequences  or  the 
feelings  of  others. 

When  at  length  the  sturdy  old  Bohemian-British 
members  of  the  Institution  rebelled  and  eventually 
dethroned  him,  he  addressed  his  successor,  Mr. 
Wyke  Bayliss,  as  follows  :  "  Well,  Mr.  Bayle}/," 
upon  which  Mr.  Bayliss,  not  to  be  beaten,  retorted,- 
"  There  is  one  duty  Mr.  Whistle  which  you  have 

256 


WHISTLER  257 

forgotten  to  perform  before  vacating  the  chair, 
and  that  is  to  congratulate  the  new  President" 
— which  of  course  Whistler  proceeded  to  do.  Then 
with  a  wave  of  his  hand,  collecting  his  little  band 
of  stalwarts — "  And  now  the  Artists  take  their 
departure,  and  only  the  British  remain." 

During  the  tenure  of  his  house  in  Tite  Street, 
Whistler  did  a  certain  amount  of  entertaining, 
and  procured  his  supply  of  wine  from  the  local 
wine-merchant  in  the  King's  Road,  Chelsea,  who 
allowed  him  long  credit  in  consideration  of  the  fact 
that  Whistler  recommended  him  to  many  of  the 
great  folk  who  frequented  the  studio.  Whistler, 
apparently  at  this  time,  was  in  financial  straits 
and  also  owed  a  considerable  sum  to  Chapman,  the 
picture  frame  maker,  who  called  one  day  to  ask  for 
settlement  of  his  long  outstanding  account. 

Whistler  received  him  most  cordially  and  pressed 
him  to  partake  of  a  glass  of  wine.  Chapman,  while 
appreciating  the  courtesy  of  his  client,  felt  it  his 
duty  to  decline  the  proffered  refreshment,  and 
ventured  to  remark,  "  You  will  pardon  me,  Mr. 
Whistler,  but  while  you  find  yourself  unable  to 
settle  my  bill,  I  am  surprised  that  you  are  able  to 
indulge  in  the  extravagance  of  champagne." 

"  Oh,  don't  let  that  worry  you,  my  dear 
Chapman,"  said  Whistler,  "  I  don't  pay  for  that 
either." 

Whistler  told  mc  he  was  dining  out  shortly  after 
his  libel  action  against  Ruskin,  and  was  holding 
forth  on  the  miserable  methods  of  his  adversary 
when  a  lady  who  was  sitting  on  his  right  expostulated 
with  him  upon  the  violence  of  his  tirade,  saying, 


258       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

"  You  perhaps  are  not  aware  that  Mr.  Ruskin  is  an 
uncle  of  mine  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,  my  dear  madam,"  ejaculated 
Whistler,  "  we  have  all  relations  of  whom  we  are  more 
or  less  ashamed." 

On  another  occasion  he  was  ventilating  his  views 
upon  Art  in  general  before  a  mixed  assembly. 
Mr.  Wedmore,  the  Art  critic  of  the  "Standard" 
ventured  to  interrupt  him  with  the  remark,  "  What 
are  we  to  do  who  find  ourselves  in  disagreement  with 
Mr.  Whistler's  principles  ?  " 

"  Do,  my  dear  sir  ?  Why  die !  "  came  the 
strident  reply. 

Whistler  could  not  brook  the  slightest  appearance 
or  suggestion  of  independence  or  insubordination 
from  any  of  his  faithful  band  of  followers,  and  when 
Mortimer  Menpes  announced  his  intention  of  going 
to  Japan  (Japanese  art  Whistler  regarded  as  his  own 
private  property  and  discovery)  he  was  furious 
and  never  forgave  what  he  considered  an  infringe- 
ment of  his  patent. 

Another  story  illustrates  the  merciless  nature  of 
his  methods  when  anything  or  anybody  stood  in 
his  way.  One  of  the  few  members  of  his  flock  of 
adherents  blessed  with  an  assured  pecuniary  position 
was  William  Stott  of  Oldham,  who  possessed  a 
little  place  in  the  country,  and  went  even  further  than 
the  others  in  copying  Whistler's  style  of  dress — 
the  long  frock-coat  buttoned  up  close  to  the  neck, 
the  flowing  black  "  quartier  Latin  "  tie,  and  strange 
long  stove-pipe  topper  with  tiny  narrow  brim. 
He  and  Mrs.  Stott  were  very  kind  to  Whistler  and 
went   so   far   as   to   be  very  kind  also  to  a  lady 


WHISTLER  259 

of  the  studio  who  devoted  herself  entirely  to 
Whistler  and  was  known  to  the  little  coterie  as 
"  Madame." 

The  Stotts  received  a  letter  from  Whistler  saying 
that  "  Madame  "  was  far  from  well  and  might  she 
come  down  and  spend  a  few  days  with  them  in  the 
country,  as  he  was  sure  the  rest  and  change  would 
do  her  good.  The  Stotts  assented  gladly,  and 
"  Madame  "  was  installed  and  sat  out  all  day  in  the 
garden.  She  was  making  rapid  progress,  when  one 
morning  they  saw  in  the  "  Times  "  an  announcement 
of  the  marriage  of  James  McNeill  Whistler  to  the 
widow  of  the  late  Mr.  Godwin. 

This  was  a  crushing  and  unexpected  blow  to 
poor  "  Madame,"  who  collapsed  completely,  and  it 
required  the  constant  care  and  watchfulness  of 
the  Stotts  to  bring  her  round.  It  was  a  very 
embarrassing  situation,  but  the  fact  remained  that 
they  were  landed  with  the  weeping  woman  while 
Whistler  and  Mrs.  Godwin  were  gaily  gadding  on 
their  honeymoon. 

Some  time  after  this  Stott  was  in  town,  and  strolled 
into  the  Hogarth  Club,  of  which  we  were  all  members 
in  those  days.  Going  upstairs  into  the  drawing-room 
he  came  face  to  face  with  Whistler,  and  immediately 
exclaimed,  "  Mr.  Whistler,  you  are  a  liar  and  a 
blackguard."  Whistler  made  no  more  ado,  but 
catching  Stott  by  the  scruff  of  the  neck,  kicked  him 
out  of  the  room. 

A  Special  General  Meeting  of  the  Club  was  called 
to  consider  this  incident.  Whistler  having  reported 
Stott  to  the  committee  for  using  insulting  and 
ungentlemanly  language.     I  was  present,  standing 


26o       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

next  to  Whistler  immediately  below  the  chairman, 
who  sat  at  a  table  on  a  raised  dais. 

Whistler  asserted  that  they  were  called  to  adjudi- 
cate upon  a  point  of  Club  etiquette  and  that  the  case 
before  the  meeting  was  that  a  member,  without 
previous  provocation  in  the  Club,  had  grossly  in- 
sulted another  member  and  so  begun  the  quarrel, 
he  was  clearly  guilty,  and  failing  a  full  and  ample 
apology  he  must  be  asked  to  resign,  and  if  he 
refused,  be  expelled  the  Club.  But,  and  Whistler 
made  a  great  point  of  this,  the  Club  had  no  juris- 
diction to  deal  under  any  circumstances  with  a 
personal  difference  which  might  have  arisen  outside 
the  Club. 

During  the  meeting  there  was  a  strong  feeling 
adverse  to  Whistler  among  the  few  members  con- 
versant with  the  facts,  and  I  recall  one  member 
very  briefly  but  forcibly  telling  Whistler  what  he 
thought  of  him,  as  we  stood  there  while  the  meeting 
was  just  beginning.  Whistler,  not  in  the  least 
perturbed,  waved  him  contemptuously  aside,  and 
turned  to  listen  to  the  remarks  from  the  chairman 
in  case  that  gentleman  should  be  tempted  to  en- 
croach on  forbidden  ground. 

I  could  not  help  admiring  the  superb  audacity  of 
the  strange  creature  in  face  of  a  crowded  hostile 
room.  During  the  silence  in  which  the  chairman's 
words  were  listened  to.  Whistler  required  a  light  for 
his  cigarette.  There  was  a  lighted  candle  upon  the 
table  in  front  of  the  chairman,  and  in  full  view  of  us 
all,  Whistler  stepped  forward,  and  at  arm's  length 
— he  could  barely  reach  it — succeeded  in  lighting 
his     cigarette     with     a     nonchalant     insouciance 


WHISTLER  261 

which   by   suggestion    made    hght    of    the    whole 
proceeding. 

It  is  more  than  thirty  years  ago,  and  the  dear  old 
Hogarth  Club  ceased  to  exist  ages  ago,  and  I  cannot 
call  to  mind  precisely  whether  Stott  resigned  or  was 
expelled,  but  strange  as  it  may  seem,  Stott  ceased 
to  be  a  member  and  Whistler  remained. 

In  those  days  in  Chelsea  there  existed  a  movement 
calling  for  the  reform  of  the  Royal  Academy.  We 
met  from  time  to  time  in  various  studios,  and  a 
council  was  elected — Walter  Crane,  Holman  Hunt, 
Harvard  Thomas,  W.  E.  F.  Britten,  Fred  Brown, 
J.  E.  Christie,  George  Clausen,  Wilson  Steer,  Stirling 
Lee  and  others.  Most  of  them  were  eventually 
absorbed  into  the  ranks  of  the  Royal  Academy,  and 
those  who  escaped  we  hope  to  meet  again  on  the 
Golden  Shore. 

When  J.  J.  Shannon  was  elected  A.R.A.  Whistler 
wrote  and  impressed  upon  him  that  this  gave  him 
the  chance  of  his  life,  and  that  by  refusing  to  accept 
the  associateship  he  would  gain  far  greater  distinc- 
tion than  he  could  possibly  achieve  by  becoming  a 
mere  member  of  the  Royal  Academy.  "  Resign  and 
show  your  contempt  for  the  Forty  !"  Shannon  re- 
plied that  he  was  very  sensible  of  Whistler's  kind- 
ness in  making  the  suggestion  but  "  he  was  not  that 
kind  of  pigeon." 

One  of  the  meetings  for  the  Reform  of  the  R.A.  was 
attended  by  Oscar  Wilde,  whose  name  was  placed  on 
the  Reform  Committee.  It  appeared  that  shortly 
before  this  Whistler  and  Wilde  had  quarrelled,  and 
when   Whistler  was  specially  invited   to  attend  a 


262        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

subsequent  meeting,  his  reply  conveyed  the  im- 
pression that  in  his  opinion  destruction  was  more 
effective  than  reformation,  and  that  he  was  too  busy 
to  bother  about  any  R.A.  at  the  moment.  Referring 
to  the  Hst  of  the  committee  he  proceeded  :  "  But 
why  Oscar  ? — who  picks  the  plums  from  our 
platters,  and  peddles  them  about  the  provinces  for 
profit." 

Wilde  and  he  had  previously  seen  much  of  each 
other,  and  Wilde  had  doubtless  assimilated  a  con- 
siderable smattering  of  Whistler's  persiflage  and 
exploited  this  during  the  lectures  which  he  was 
delivering  up  and  down  the  country  and  by  which 
he  realized  quite  a  large  sum  of  money. 

Whistler  was  ruthless  in  the  pursuit  of  friend  or 
foe  who  fell  under  the  ban  of  his  displeasure,  and 
the  rasping  sting  of  his  biting  tongue  made  him  a 
formidable  adversary.  Labouchere,  himself  a  past- 
master  in  all  the  arts  of  wordy  warfare,  took  a 
friendly  delight  in  fanning  any  flicker  of  discord 
which  might  be  smouldering  in  the  camp  of  the 
master  of  "  The  Gentle  Art  of  Making  Enemies." 

The  columns  of  "  Truth  "  were  always  open  to 
Whistler  for  the  ventilation  of  his  little  tiffs,  but  he 
did  not  confine  himself  entirely  to  wordy  warfare. 
He  "  caned  "  Augustus  Moore  in  the  foyer  at  the 
Opera,  and  in  Paris  challenged  George  Moore  (the 
author  of  many  famous  novels  and  brother  of 
Augustus)  to  a  real  duel,  and  referred  to  him  as  a 
"  runaway "  because  Moore  declined  to  feed  his 
vanity  by  anything  so  absurd.  But  although  he 
certainly  raised  his  foot  against  William  Stott  of 
Oldham,   I  never  heard  that  Whistler  ever  really 


WHISTLER  263 

hurt  anybody ;  it  was  always  a  case  of  "I'll  strike 
you  with  a  feather,  I'll  stab  you  with  a  rose."  It 
created  a  lot  of  fun — the  little  Bantam  of  Battersea 
Reach,  a  wonder  at  his  weight,  puffing  out  his  chest, 
proud  and  "  pleased  as  Punch." 

That  "  Labby  "  really  liked  him  was  undoubted. 
He  told  me  that  having  purchased  Whistler's  picture 
of  Connie  Gilchrist,  "  The  Gold  Girl,"  at  an  auction, 
he  was  induced  to  lend  the  picture  to  the  artist,  who 
desired  to  effect  some  slight  alteration.  Labouchere 
laughingly  added :  "  That  is  ten  years  ago.  He  is  still 
not  sufficiently  satisfied  with  it  to  return  my  picture, 
and  I  don't  expect  ever  to  see  it  again." 

On  this  point  Whistler  entertained  rather  select 
views,  holding  that  mere  payment  for  one  of  his 
masterpieces  did  not  necessarily  mean  that  the 
purchaser  was  worthy  to  remain  in  undisputed 
possession  of  the  picture. 

The  late  Sir  Thomas  Sutherland,  while  chairman 
of  the  P.  and  O.,  told  me  that  in  his  bachelor  days 
he  saw  a  good  deal  of  Jimmy  Whistler  during  the 
period  when  he  was  having  his  famous  dispute  with 
Leyland  over  the  Peacock  Room.  On  a  certain 
Sunday  about  that  time  Sir  Thomas  was  going  to 
Southampton  to  board  one  of  his  new  P.  and  O. 
ships  on  its  trial  trip.  He  invited  Whistler  to  bring 
a  few  friends  and  join  him.  They  were  to  meet  at 
Waterloo  Station  on  the  Sunday  afternoon. 

As  they  waited  for  the  train  Sir  Thomas  re- 
marked :  "I  suppose  you  fellows  have  partaken  of 
the  usual  Sunday  midday  dinner,  so  there  will  be  no 
necessity  to  dine  before  embarking  to-night."  But 
it  appeared  his  guests  had  lunched  lightly  as  they 


264       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

supposed  late  dinner  would  be  provided,  and 
Whistler  suggested  that  as  they  were  not  dining  on 
board  and  seeing  it  was  Sunday  night  it  would  be 
as  well  to  wire  to  the  Terminus  Hotel  at  Southampton 
and  order  dinner  to  be  ready  for  them  on  their 
arrival. 

Sir  Thomas  thereupon  telegraphed :  "  Please 
prepare  dinner  for  self  and  party  on  arrival  by 
boat-train  to-night.    Sutherland." 

Upon  their  arrival  at  Southampton  Sir  Thomas 
was  considerably  surprised  to  find  the  station 
decorated  and  a  crimson  carpet  leading  from  the 
platform  to  the  hotel  entrance.  They  were  met  by 
the  Superintendent  of  the  Line,  attended  by  as 
many  Directors  as  could  be  summoned  at  short 
notice  on  the  Sabbath. 

Upon  enquiring  the  reason  for  all  this  pomp  and 
ceremony  it  transpired  that  from  the  telegram  they 
had  concluded  that  the  Duke  of  Sutherland  with  a 
ducal  party  was  arriving,  and  a  magnificent  banquet 
had  been  prepared  with  all  the  floral  decoration 
available. 

Sir  Thomas,  Whistler  and  his  friends  felt  that  the 
only  thing  to  do  was  to  face  the  feast  as  it  stood. 
When  it  was  all  over  Sir  Thomas  put  it  to  them 
that  once  on  the  ship  they  would  be  his  guests,  but 
as  the  banquet  had  been  rather  thrust  upon  them 
it  would  be  only  fair  if  they  each  bore  their  own  share 
of  the  bill,  which  was  quite  in  keeping  with  the  fare 
provided.  Whistler  and  his  friends  laughed  and 
scoffed  at  the  mere  idea  of  mincing  the  matter  in 
this  manner,  and  there  was  nothing  for  Sir  Thomas 
but  to  grin,  pay  and  bear  it. 


WHISTLER  265 

It  appears  that  some  days  after  their  return  to 
town  a  message  reached  Sir  Thomas  that  Whistler 
would  like  to  see  him.  Upon  calling  at  Whistler's 
studio  he  was  shown  a  charming  sketch  reminiscent 
of  the  scene  that  night  upon  which  they  had  em- 
barked upon  the  trial  trip  in  the  new  P.  and  O. 

Sir  Thomas,  much  struck  by  the  beauty  of  the 
study,  asked  Whistler  what  sort  of  sum  he  would 
receive  for  it,  if  it  were  for  sale.  Whistler,  never 
timorous  about  such  matters,  replied  that  he  was 
prepared  to  sacrifice  it  for  700  guineas.  "  Seven 
hundred  fiddlesticks,"  said  Sir  Thomas,  and  laugh- 
ingly left  the  studio. 

This  was  the  "  study "  called  by  Whistler, 
"  Valparaiso — evening,"  which  was  later  sold  for 
12,000  guineas.  Little  did  Sir  Thomas  think  he 
would  live  to  see  the  day  when  this  little  sketch 
would  realize  over  ten  times  the  sum  he  refused  to 
pay. 

"  Captain  "  Hill,  the  Bond  Street  tailor,  who  had 
a  large  house  in  Brighton,  was  a  collector  of  modern 
pictures  and  took  a  great  interest  in  the  artists 
themselves.  He  had  commissioned  Whistler  to 
paint  a  picture  for  him,  and  it  was  arranged  that  he 
should  take  the  picture  down  to  Brighton  and  choose 
the  place  where  it  should  hang.  When  Whistler 
arrived  his  host  and  party  were  out  for  the  day. 
When  they  returned  in  the  evening  they  found 
Whistler  fast  asleep  on  the  sofa,  the  collection  of 
pictures  entirely  re-hung,  and  his  own  contribution 
hanging  in  the  place  of  honour. 

Watts  and  Whistler  were  as  the  poles  asunder. 
What  Watts  thought  of  Whistler  is  not  recorded. 


266        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Whistler,  in  his  reckless  disregard  of  all  convention, 
declared  that  Watts  was  a  "  damned  old  muddler." 
The  restraint  and  repose  of  Whistler's  contribution 
to  the  art  of  his  period  was  strangely  at  variance 
with  the  rattle  of  his  raillery.  He  poured  forth  a 
mocking  torrent  of  irresponsible  derision  from  which 
no  mortal,  however  eminent,  was  immune. 

Sir  Thomas  Sutherland  told  me  that  Whistler's 
famous  breakfast  parties  were  amazing  for  the 
complete  success  with  which  he  conveyed  by  his 
gaiety  of  manner  a  subtle  suggestion  of  dainty  fare 
and  that  he  had  provided  a  sumptuous  feast.  You  had 
no  time  to  realize  until  afterwards  that  you  had 
eaten  practically  nothing  at  all,  but  had  enjoyed 
yourself  very  much.  Whistler  is  usually  associated 
with  stories  if  not  actually  malicious,  at  any  rate 
relying  upon  a  certain  amount  of  sting,  and  possess- 
ing what  might  mildly  be  classified  as  pungent 
humour  ;  but  that  he  could  be  kind  on  occasions  is 
indisputable. 

According  to  G.  B.  Burgin,  one  evening  at  Joseph 
Pennell's  attractive  abode  in  Adelphi  Terrace,  he 
found  as  a  fellow-guest  Aubrey  Beardsley,  for  whose 
work  hitherto  he  had  avowed  a  wholesome  dislike. 
Beardsley,  an  abnormally  delicate,  sensitive  creature, 
felt  this  gratuitous  slight  upon  his  productions  very 
acutely.  As  it  happened  Pennell  and  Beardsley 
were  busily  engaged  examining  some  proofs  of  the 
latter's  work  at  the  moment  Whistler  arrived,  and 
Beardsley,  with  nervous,  trembling  hands  hastily 
attempted,  by  turning  them  face  downwards,  to 
conceal  the  work  for  which  Whistler  had  previously 
expressed     his    unmitigated    contempt.      Whistler 


WHISTLER  267 

however,  insisted  on  seeing  the  drawings,  and 
turning  them  over  on  the  table,  he  placed  his  hand 
upon  Beardsley's  shoulder,  who  was  waiting  in 
deadly  fear  for  the  fall  of  some  biting,  critical 
badinage. 

"  My  dear  Beardsley,  I  beg  your  pardon  for  any- 


^— '— T 

- 

J 

1 

Wk 

£ 

AM 

^^^^^^^^B/ 

'^S^^ 

'T? 

c 

Whistler.     By  Joseph  Simpson,  R.B.A. 

thing  disparaging  I  may  have  said  about  your  work. 
I  fully  realize  now  that  you  are  a  great  artist." 

Aubrey  Beardsley  burst  into  tears  and  sobbed 
like  a  child. 

So  far  as  I  knew  he  was  no  church-goer,  yet  the 
incumbent  at  that  time  of  the  Old  Chelsea  Church 
told  me  that  each  Sunday  Whistler  never  missed 
conducting  his  mother  as  far  as  the  church  door, 
and  after  the  service  he  was  there  again  to  take  her 
home. 


268        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

I  have  often  seen  him  at  picture  exhibitions,  where 
he  was  always  stationed  in  front  of  his  own  work, 
holding  forth  on  its  merits  to  a  small  crowd  of  faithful 
adherents  who  clustered  round,  muttering  their 
jargon  of  wonder  and  admiration.  Only  once  did  I 
see  him  bestow  any  attention  on  other  work  than  his 
own.  This  was  when  some  drawings  by  his  wife 
were  included  in  the  exhibition.  For  these  he  had 
nothing  but  unstinted  praise,  and  I  was  informed 
by  one  of  his  disciples  that  all  the  tenderness  and 
consideration  of  which  he  was  capable  were  reserved 
for  her,  and  that  when  she  died  he  was  utterly 
broken  up  by  her  loss. 

Whistler  was  a  very  remarkable  personality, 
nimble-witted  to  an  extraordinary  degree,  with  a 
keen  knowledge  of  his  own  limitations  (a  very  rare 
quality),  no  veneration,  and  a  profound  belief  that 
effrontery  would  foozle  all  the  silly  people  he  might 
meet  in  the  shallow  waters  of  artistic  London. 

As  a  boy  I  was  for  a  time  an  enthusiastic  angler. 
In  Yorkshire  rivers  there  was  a  strange,  voracious 
small  fish  called  a  "  Daddy  Rough,"  on  account  of 
its  being  protected  by  Nature  with  strong  spikes  aU 
along  its  back.  It  was  quite  uneatable,  and  when 
freed  from  our  hooks  we  often  impaled  a  cork  on  its 
spikes  and  sent  him  afloat  again.  Away  he  went, 
rushing  about  on  the  surface  of  the  stream,  unable 
to  submerge  owing  to  the  buoyancy  supplied  by  the 
cork  on  its  back. 

Whistler  often  reminded  me  of  a  "  Daddy  Rough  " 
— though  he  was  buoyant  enough  without  any  cork 
— being  dangerous  to  handle,  and  very  disturbing 
to  the  tranquillity  of  any  stream. 


CHAPTER   XVIII 

BRITISH    COLUMBIA 

THERE  were  three  farmers  within  a  few 
hours'  ride  of  our  camp  in  British  Columbia 
when  I  was  on  a  trip  to  the  Hot  Springs 
with  St.  John  Harmsworth  in  1914.  First 
of  all  there  was  an  American  named  Jim  Johnson. 
His  was  a  small  farm,  but  he  had  eighty  horses  and 
a  beautiful  and  well-ordered  garden  with  an  abun- 
dance of  the  finest  strawberries,  as  I  can  testify.  We 
(a  party  of  six)  went  over  to  lunch  one  Sunday, 
when  he  entertained  us  right  royally.  The  house 
was  a  model  of  perfect  orderliness,  full  of  cunning 
contrivances,  not  a  thing  neglected  or  forgotten. 
Jim  Johnson  was  a  man  of  education  and  refine- 
ment ;  he  had  built  his  own  house  with  his  own  hands 
without  any  assistance  whatever.  He  attended  to 
every  detail  belonging  to  his  farm,  looked  after  his 
eighty  horses  with  no  help  from  any  hving  soul, 
kept  his  garden  in  the  most  exquisite  order  and  saw 
to  every  detail  of  housework  with  no  aid  from  m.an 
or  maid. 

Farmery,  bakery,  butchery,  cookery  and  washing 
(some  of  our  party  insisted  on  doing  the  washing-up 
after  lunch)  were  his  manifold  duties ;  this  left  -no 
leisure  for  smoke  or  drink.    He  did  neither,  nor  had 

269 


270        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

he  an  overflow  of  talk — he  rarely  spoke,  spare  and 
lean  and  very  silent  he  appeared  to  be  perfectly 
happy  and  contented.  Not  a  soul  within  many 
miles,  but  no  fraction  of  a  moment  in  which  to  feel 
miserable  or  solitary.  It  seemed  incredible  that 
any  individual  unaided  could  accomplish  so  much. 
There  was  no  evidence  of  any  hurry  or  trace  of 
tidying  up  in  any  haste.  He  was  the  only  real 
tranquil  thing  in  human  beings  I  had  ever  beheld. 

Judge  Scovil,  an  old  friend  of  Johnson's  who 
arranged  our  visit,  told  me  that  if  you  came  un- 
expectedly the  house  and  everything  in  it  were 
spick-and-span  just  the  same.  Scovil  said  to  me  : 
"  Come  and  see  his  bedroom."  It  was  perfectly 
simple,  an  unpretentious  apartment,  but  certainly 
left  the  impression  on  my  mind  that  a  chambermaid 
had  "  done  "  the  room  and  that  a  valet  had  arranged 
his  master's  things. 

The  temptation  of  a  place  in  the  Legislature  of  his 
country  had  been  offered  to  Johnson,  to  which  by 
his  culture  and  attainments  he  was  undoubtedly 
entitled,  but  no  lure  of  office  could  tempt  him  away 
from  the  tranquillity  of  his  home  in  the  hills. 

Another  farmer  just  as  efficient  and  attractive  in 
his  queer  Irish  way  was  John  McCullagh.  Un- 
hampered by  education  of  any  kind,  he  had  learned 
to  read  and  write  a  little  in  a  childish  fashion  after 
reaching  the  age  of  sixty,  and  had  bought  a  fiddle 
which  he  learned  to  play  without  any  instruction 
save  what  he  gathered  from  a  shilling  handbook. 

John  had  been  a  hard  drinker  all  his  days,  but 
when  I  found  him  at  the  age  of  sixty-three,  he  had 
quit  the  bottle  for  keeps  !     The  change  had  been 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  271 

brought  about  by  the  advent  of  a  middle-aged, 
Lancashire  mill  hand.  Jenny  had  journeyed  out  to 
Golden  to  housekeep  for  her  brother,  but  when  he 
elected  to  get  married  she  found  herself  at  liberty 
to  look  out  for  a  fresh  field  for  her  activities. 

Now  John  McCullagh  after  fifty  years  of  fending 
for  himself  bethought  him  that  Jenny  might  come 
along  to  his  ranch  and  help  him  to  run  it  with  a 
httle  more  care  and  regard  for  orderliness.  But 
Jenny  refused  to  join  forces  as  she  was  informed 
that  John  was  a  man  of  violent  temper  and  addicted 
to  drink.  That  is  why  he  made  up  his  mind  to 
become  a  teetotaller. 

One  morning,  harnessing  his  horses  to  the  buggy, 
John  drove  out  to  where  Jenny  was  staying  and 
informed  her  that  he  had  come  to  fetch  her  to  be 
married,  for  which  purpose  he  carried  the  licence  in  his 
pocket.  Looking  out  of  the  window  Jenny  told  him 
plainty  that  she  refused  to  comply  with  his  strange 
proposal,  and  added  :  "  What  is  that  coil  of  stuff 
you  carry  in  the  back  of  the  buggy  ?  "  "  Oh  !  " 
said  John,  "  that's  a  rope  to  hog  tie  you  with  in  case 
you  don't  come  good."  "  So,"  as  she  told  it  to  me, 
"  it  didn't  seem  any  use  standing  out.  I  just  packed 
my  trunk  and,  putting  on  my  bonnet,  got  into  the 
buggy  and  John  drove  me  off  to  this  ranch,  calUng 
at  parson's  house  to  be  married  on  the  way 
home." 

Jenny  was  a  dear  soul  and  must  have  been  a 
very  pretty  girl.  She  was  still  quite  good  looking 
even  after  fifty  years  of  unremitting  toil  as  a  mill 
hand  (she  had  commenced  work  while  a  mere  child 
as  a  "  half-timer,"  an  abominable  custom  in  vogue 


272        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

in  those  sordid  wicked  old  days)  and  as  a  maid-of- 
all-work  on  a  ranch. 

John  had  been  bred  and  reared  in  the  mining  camps 
around  Colorado,  and  his  choice  in  expletives  was 
a  sore  trial  to  the  primitive  Jenny.  His  vocabulary, 
though  limited,  was  lurid  and  fiery,  and  I  fear  he 
took  a  savage  delight  in  displaying  his  talent,  which 
had  lain  dormant  during  the  long  years  of  his  former 
lonely  bachelorhood,  at  Spillamachine  Ranch. 

In  his  early  days  John  had  been  a  prizefighter. 
Short  in  stature  he  was  very  stockily  built,  and  at  the 
age  of  sixty-three  still  possessed  surprising  alertness 
of  foot  and  retained  sufficient  elasticity  to  turn  a 
somersault  at  any  moment  during  his  round  of 
inspecting  his  stock,  and,  when  the  fit  took  him, 
would  step  out  an  Irish  jig  with  infinite  spirit, 
scraping  out  the  tune  the  while  on  his  own  little 
fiddle.  For  his  prize  fights  he  told  me  his  mother 
had  always  acted  as  trainer,  and  very  efficiently 
she  performed  her  duties  right  up  to  the  moment  of 
his  entering  the  ring.  But  she  could  not  trust 
herself  to  watch  the  combat  itself  though  keeping 
herself  in  readiness  to  tend  her  boy  the  moment 
the  ordeal  was  over. 

Very  early  in  life  John  had  found  it  convenient 
to  enlist  in  the  army,  but  the  restraint  and  discipline 
of  a  soldier's  life  galled  his  free,  proud  spirit,  so  he 
deserted  and  made  for  the  mines,  where  in  those 
days  everything  might  be  found  but  monotony. 
He  met  with  varying  fortune.  At  one  period  he 
was  making  £7000  a  year,  but  cards  and  roulette 
relieved  him  of  all  surplus  cash.  Endowed  with  a 
natural  aptitude  for  handling  anything  of  a  sporting 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  273 

character,  he  became  an  adroit  and  successful 
coiner  during  the  dull  periods  of  life  in  the  mining 
world,  when  things  did  not  pan  out  well  and  dollars 
were  scarce.  The  risk  was  great,  convicted  coiners 
were  given  short  shrift.  John  and  his  partner 
divided  the  risk.  They  found  it  comparatively 
easy  to  pass  a  few  counterfeit  dollars  to  meet  their 
requirements  from  time  to  time  when  hard  pressed, 
but  deemed  it  wise  to  abstain  from  the  temptation 
of  flooding  their  immediate  market  with  any 
considerable  quantity  of  spurious  coins  which  might 
not  unreasonably  arouse  suspicion. 

After  a  long  period  of  comparative  prosperity 
in  their  mining  operations  a  lean  time  followed, 
during  which  the  partnership  was  face  to  face  with 
something  resembling  famine.  It  became  so  acute 
that  the  old  desperate  remedy  was  at  last  resorted 
to  and  John  turned  out  a  few  hundred  very  excellent 
imitations  of  the  Mexican  dollar.  It  was  his  partner 
who  undertook  the  dangerous  duty  of  passing  the 
coins,  for  which  great  coolness  and  circumspection 
were  required.  But  on  this  occasion  for  some 
reason  or  other,  perhaps  he  had  lost  the  trick  through 
lack  of  practice,  he  returned  to  McCullagh  with  a 
frank  avowal  that  he  had  funked  the  business  and 
could  not  face  it.  John  was  furious  at  this  slight 
upon  his  artistry,  "Here,  give  me  the  stuff;  I  made 
'em  and  I'll  pass  'em." 

John  made  for  the  camp  and  paid  for  a  few  drinks 
with  a  dollar  or  two.  The  success  of  this  experiment 
emboldened  him  to  carry  on  the  good  work,  with  the 
result  that  he  forgot  the  nature  of  the  stuff  that  he 
was  handling,  went  on  a  blazing  spree,  squandered 


274       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

his  entire  output,  and  returned  drunk  and  dollarless 
to  his  timorous  partner. 

This  experiment  cured  him  of  the  coining  business. 
He  was  thoroughly  aroused  to  the  danger  he  had 
run  and  there  and  then  destroyed  the  dies  and  quit 
the  business  for  keeps.  Although  he  stoutly 
maintained  that  his  dollars  contained  quite  as  much 
sterling  silver  as  the  government  currency,  this 
would  not  have  absolved  him  from  the  swift  retri- 
bution awaiting  the  manipulation  of  a  private  mint. 

Gambling  had  ever  been  the  relaxation  of  the  old- 
time  toilers  in  new-found  mining  areas.  John  was 
badly  bitten  by  this  baneful  pastime.  He  had 
squandered  all  his  earnings  on  one  occasion  at  roulette 
and  found  himself  stranded,  minus  the  means  of 
recouping  his  losses,  quite  early  in  the  evening. 
Vacating  his  chair  at  the  gambling  table  he  found 
himself  following  a  fat  old  Chinaman  who  had 
discontinued  play  for  the  reason  that  he  had  won 
a  sufficiently  large  sum  to  satisfy  his  requirements. 
John  felt  the  foolish  unfairness  of  their  relative 
positions,  and  filled  with  fury  at  the  injustice  of 
Fate  stealthily  tracked  the  Chinaman  until  they 
were  well  away  from  observation — then  stepping 
swiftly  behind  him  he  gave  him  j  ust  enough  strangle- 
hold to  afford  himself  ample  opportunity  in  which  to 
relieve  the  Chinaman  of  his  ill-gotten  gains. 

John  told  me  that  the  fat  old  fellow  at  first 
squealed  like  a  frightened  rabbit,  but  he  quickly 
quietened  him  and  was  thus  enabled  to  resume  his 
seat  at  the  roulette  table,  replenished  with  the 
sinews  of  war.  The  man  at  the  wheel  smiled  as 
though  he  suspected  the  source  from  which  John's 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  275 

change  of  fortune  had  come,  but  went  on  with  the 
game  all  the  same. 

John's  ranch  at  Spillamachine  was  several  miles 
away  from  the  Radium  Hot  Springs  where  our  camp 
was  pitched,  and  it  fell  to  my  lot  to  trudge  over  the 
mountains  in  the  early  mornings  in  quest  of  fresh 
milk  and  vegetables.  I  made  it  my  business  also 
to  paint  portraits  of  John  and  his  good  wife,  Jenny. 
A  most  amusing  experience  it  was.  The  ranch  was 
used  as  the  dumping  ground  for  the  "  mail  "  and 
occasionally  callers  would  drop  in  for  possible 
letters.  The  McCullaghs  also  had  a  wooden  shack 
where  belated  pedestrians  could  spend  the  night — 
strange  fellows  tramping  the  mountains  in  quest 
of  jobs  as  roadmakers,  railway  men,  ranchers,  mining 
and  oil  experts,  with  a  couple  of  blankets  strapped  on 
their  backs,  and  a  pannikin  slung  to  their  belts. 

Bed  and  breakfast  would  cost  them  two  to  three 
dollars.  An  excellent  meal  it  was,  great  dishes  of 
fried  eggs  and  bacon  and  the  most  delicious  porridge 
I  ever  tasted.  John  presented  no  bill.  If  the  way- 
farer on  taking  the  trail  again  made  no  enquiry 
as  to  what  he  owed,  it  was  taken  for  granted  that 
he  was  without  the  means  to  pay,  and  the  matter 
was  never  mentioned.  He  just  shouldered  his  bundle 
and  went  on  his  way. 

The  mail  was  left  once  in  a  while  and  a  kind  of 
cupboard  had  been  arranged  to  receive  it,  but  the 
letters  more  often  httered  the  floor  and  callers  would 
shuffle  them  about  in  the  dust  with  a  stick  in  the 
hope  of  finding  the  one  they  wanted.  The  arrange- 
ments for  posting  and  clearing  letters  were  more 
primitive  stiU.     An   old   battered   tin   biscuit   box 


276       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

with  a  hole  big  enough  to  put  your  fist  in  was  nailed 
fast  to  the  trunk  of  a  tree.  At  irregular  intervals 
the  rickety  mail-cart  passing  Spillamachine  would 
call  at  Hairpin  Corner  and  clear  the  biscuit  box. 
On  the  next  tree  was  nailed  a  notice  to  the  effect 
that  *'  It  takes  a  thousand  years  to  grow  a  forest. 
A  careless  man  throwing  a  burning  match  may 
destroy  it  in  five  minutes." 

Macauley,  the  teamster,  was  perhaps  the  most 
picturesque  of  all  the  curious  callers  at  Spillamachine. 
He  made  a  brave  figure  as  he  defiled  with  his  string 
of  horses  along  the  canyon.  A  Winchester  slung 
across  his  shoulder  and  a  revolver  thrust  into  his 
belt,  he  rode  with  all  the  swagger  of  a  knight  of 
old.  Every  horse  with  its  pack  moved  with  con- 
scious pride  as  feeUng  his  share  of  responsibility 
in  the  outfit.  Whatever  came  their  way  they  were 
ready  for  it — hauling  timber,  carrying  freight  along 
the  track,  or  indeed  any  job  calling  for  man  or 
horse. 

Macauley  was  a  splendid  looking  Irishman,  and  a 
good  looking  Irishman  is  the  handsomest  man  thing 
you  will  find  the  world  over.  I  wanted  to  paint  a 
portrait  of  him,  but  his  mode  of  hfe — here  to-day 
and  gone  to-morrow — made  it  impossible,  unless 
indeed  I  cared  to  take  a  horse  and  join  his  circus. 
He  had  no  ties  of  family  or  homestead  and  was 
the  most  carefree  fearless  human  I  have  ever 
encountered. 

I  loved  every  moment  of  it — starting  from  our 
camp  between  five  and  six  o'clock,  having  already 
made  a  fire  after  collecting  the  wood  and  prepared 
early  tea.     This  was  my  job,  in  return  for  which 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  277 

other  members  of  the  party  undertook  to  see  to 
the  washing  of  my  clothes.  This  was  beyond  me. 
I  was  an  awful  duffer  at  washing  clothes.  There  was 
a  track  over  the  mountains  to  Spillamachine  with 
a  view  of  the  Selkirks  under  the  morning  sun. 

That  was  the  way  to  go  before  loading  up  with 
milk  and  vegetables.  I  usually  got  to  McCullagh's 
ranch  in  time  for  breakfast,  did  some  painting, 
and  after  a  jaw  with  John  and  Jenny  loaded  up  my 
stuff  and  started  along  the  return  journey  by  a 
different  route,  alongside  the  creek  and  through 
the  canyon.  A  blazing  hot  journey  it  was,  drenching 
me  through  and  through  from  head  to  foot,  but  a  dip 
in  the  Radium  Hot  Springs  put  that  right  and  I 
was  ready  again  for  any  job  that  might  come  to  hand. 

But  by  far  the  most  efficient  thing  in  farms  in 
our  vicinity  was  run  by  a  family  of  German  nation- 
ality. It  was  not  a  farm,  it  was  a  factory.  Every 
tap  was  turned  on  full,  the  crops  had  hardly  time 
to  ripen.  The  homestead  was  a  shambling,  largish, 
frame-built  house  bubbling  over  with  children  of 
every  shape,  age  and  size.  (I  was  told,  and  believe, 
that  there  were  twelve  of  them.)  There  were  not 
only  children,  for  every  child  had  his  horse,  pigeons, 
poultry,  pigs,  cows,  puppies,  cats  and  kittens,  or 
some  other  form  of  four-footed  beast.  It  was  a 
huge  hive,  humming  with  furious  activity — windy, 
noisy,  machinery  of  every  agricultural  stunt  whirhng 
the  stuff  aloft,  drying,  crushing,  clanging,  snorting, 
tearing  its  harvest  out  of  the  tired  earth. 

Scovil  took  me  there.  He  was  terribly  fond  of 
sweetcakes,  and  the  old  Frau  was  famous  for  her 
baking  of  every  variety.    Scovil,  who  was  painfully 


278       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

lean,  despite  his  love  for  all  things  sweet  or  savoury, 
told  me  with  bated  breath  that  he  beheved  that  she 
could  bake  her  cakes  in  fifteen  different  ways.  The 
place,  however,  made  no  appeal  to  me  as  did  the 
ranches  run  by  Jim  Johnson  or  John  McCullagh. 
No  room  for  romance  in  this  emporium  of  Teutonic 
enterprise.  The  mystery  of  the  great  mountains 
crowned  with  everlasting  snow  made  no  impression, 
held  no  message  for  the  denizens  of  this  human 
anthill. 

I  was  to  discover  later,  however,  that  they  had 
their  uses.  Not  long  after  my  visit  to  their  ranch 
in  July,  1914,  came  the  cable  thrilling  us  through 
every  fibre.  War  had  been  declared— with  the 
possible  isolation  of  our  party  out  there  in  the 
Columbia  Valley  as  consequence.  The  German 
farmer  with  commendable  enterprise  had  connected 
himself  by  telephone  with  Golden,  the  nearest  town 
of  any  importance,  and  thenceforth  all  news  of  the 
war  came  by  cable  to  Golden  and  was  telephoned 
to  the  German  farmer,  who  relayed  it  on  to  us  by  his 
daughter  who  came  riding  over  the  mountains, 
clad  cowboy  fashion,  and  making  a  very  romantic, 
comely  figure  as  she  slithered  down  the  sHppery 
trail  leading  into  our  camp  at  the  Radium  Hot 
Springs. 

We  were  entirely  unprepared  for  a  sojourn  of  long 
duration  in  the  Rockies,  in  fact  we  were  already 
planning  a  move  towards  Victoria  preparatory  for 
making  for  New  York  to  embark  on  a  White  Star 
hner  for  Liverpool ;  but  the  war  business  cancelled 
everything.  There  was  nothing  else  for  it  but  to  sit 
tight  and  make  the  best  of  the  inevitable.     The 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  279 

prospect  was  not  pleasing  as  we  were  unprovided 
with  suitable  clothing  for  the  approaching  winter. 
It  was  already  getting  very  chilly  after  sundown, 
and  our  flimsy  tents  would  obviously  be  useless 
with  a  thermometer  30°  below  zero.  Lord  North- 
cliff  e  cabled  to  his  brother  St.  John  that  he  saw  no 
possible  chance  of  our  getting  a  ship,  as  two  German 
cruisers,  the  "  Goeben  "  and  the  "  Breslau  "  were 
patrolling  the  Atlantic  for  liners. 

The  financial  outlook  was  also  embarrassing. 
We  possessed  no  ready  money.  A  local  magnate 
had  placed  £500  in  the  bank  at  Calgary  for  current 
expenses  the  week  before  war  was  declared.  The 
utmost  he  could  induce  his  bankers  to  release 
was  £50  !  To  make  matters  worse  a  storm  of  great 
violence  swept  down  the  mountain  side  and  destroyed 
the  newly-built  road  at  points  both  above  and  below 
our  camp.  For  some  days  we  were  cut  off  from 
supplies  and  had  to  subsist  on  our  slender  store  of 
canned  food. 

The  shed  which  sheltered  St.  John  Harmsworth 
was  completely  wrecked  by  the  hurricane,  so  a  log 
hut  was  built  lower  down,  at  the  edge  of  the  Radium 
Springs.  It  was  wonderful  to  see  the  way  in  which 
the  men  handled  the  great  logs,  lopping,  fashioning 
and  fixing  them  in  position.  Three  or  four  men  of 
various  nationalities — how  nimble  and  skilful  they 
were  with  the  axe  !  That  log  cabin  was  a  triumph 
— beautiful,  weatherproof,  cool  in  summer,  warm  in 
winter.  What  had  been  stately  trees  in  the  forest 
a  fortnight  before  were  now  transformed  into  a 
shapely  home,  which  nothing  short  of  fire  could 
destroy.     These   powerful,    tireless   young    giants. 


28o        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

proud  of  their  strength  and  skill,  toiled  unceasingly 
from  dawn  till  dark.  Then,  armed  with  a  cheque 
in  payment  for  their  labour,  off  they  went  gaily 
to  the  nearest  township  to  enjoy  a  Httle  relaxation. 

I  did  not  recognize  them  as  they  crept  back  a 
fortnight  later  in  order  to  shift  the  details  of  their 
camp  outfit.  They  looked  twice  the  age  and  a 
quarter  the  size.  John  Barleycorn  had  diddled 
them  out  of  every  dollar  of  their  earnings.  It 
would  take  them  days  and  days  to  recover  from  the 
effects  of  their  trip  to  ''  Barleytown,"  but  the  wonder- 
ful waters  of  the  Radium  Hot  Springs  were  famous 
far  and  wide  as  a  solace  to  the  sufferers  from  the 
deleterious  effects  of  a  plethora  of  refreshment. 
Tanned  Indians  also  brought  their  maimed  and  ailing 
brethren,  pitched  a  tent  close  to  the  Spring,  and  left 
them  there,  coming  to  and  fro  daily  with  foodstuff 
from  the  Reservation.  There  was  also  a  rumour 
that  the  brown  bear  at  night  brought  his  sore  head 
and  bathed  it  in  the  heahng  waters.  I  hope  that  this 
is  true,  though  I  am  glad  that  the  grizzly  bear 
rarely  leaves  his  fastnesses  in  the  heights,  and  does 
not  venture  in  the  valley  below.  He  is  by  no  means 
a  friendly  fellow,  and  as  a  Companion  of  the  Bath  is 
undesirable. 

Disquietening  war  news  came  trickhng  through — 
Belgium  overrun  by  the  German  Army,  the  sub- 
marine menace,  Paris  itself  in  imminent  danger. 
All  this  while  we  were  boxed  up  in  our  remote  valley, 
relying  for  our  tidings  of  the  Great  War  upon 
telephoned  cable  messages  brought  by  a  German 
maiden,  riding  over  the  mountains.  My  boys  had 
joined  the  first  week.    Cut  off  from  any  uncensored 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  281 

news  of  them  the  anxiety  was  almost  insupportable, 
but  it  had  to  be  faced.  It  seemed  more  than  possible 
that  I  would  have  to  make  for  Winnipeg,  and  spend 
the  winter  there  in  the  hope  of  getting  remunerative 
employment. 

Eventually,  however,  reliable  information  reached 
us  that  the  "  Olympic  "  would  make  this  trip  across 
the  Atlantic  from  New  York.  In  order  to  join  the 
C.P.R.  at  Golden  it  would  be  necessary  for  us  to 
make  the  journey  there  by  river,  and  the  last  boat 
of  the  year  was  shortly  leaving  the  Sinclair  Landing. 
We  proceeded  at  once  to  pack  up  preparatory  to 
striking  camp,  and  made  all  ready  for  starting  by 
motor-car  soon  after  dawn.  The  condition  of  my 
friend,  St.  John,  demanded  the  conveyance  of  much 
impedimenta.  To  relieve  the  party  of  my  extra 
weight  I  therefore  volunteered  to  make  an  earlier 
start  afoot,  and  to  meet  the  party  at  the  Landing 
in  time  to  get  aboard  the  river  boat. 

It  was  a  glorious  morning,  and  just  as  I  was  on 
the  point  of  setting  out  the  lad  who  had  been  a  sort 
of  helper  in  the  kitchen  came  and  asked  me  to  allow 
him  to  accompany  me  on  the  walk  down  to  the 
river.  He  was  a  queer,  half-witted  youth,  William 
Nelson,  by  name.  He  had  often  amused  me  by  his 
gaucheries,  and  though  I  would  much  rather  have 
been  spared  his  company,  it  appeared  an  ill-natured 
thing  to  refuse  his  request,  besides  which  he  assured 
me  that  he  was  perfectly  familiar  with  the  shortest 
and  best  track  to  take,  and  he  wanted  to  be  included 
in  the  party  assembling  to  bid  us  good-bye. 

Given  ordinary  conditions  there  would  have  been 
no  difficulty  in  finding  our  way  and  we  had  started 


282        RECOLLFXTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

out  in  plenty  of  time.  But  although  the  sun  was 
shining  brilliantly  out  of  a  cloudless  sky  the  entire 
landscape  below  was  absolutely  blotted  out  by  a 
thick  blanket  of  white  mist  like  an  unbroken  layer 
of  cotton  wool.  Had  I  been  alone  there  were  certain 
landmarks  and  indications,  which  with  any  care 
would  have  made  it  almost  impossible  to  go  very  far 
wrong.  But  William  kept  up  a  ceaseless  chatter 
which  I  would  occasionally  interrupt  by  the  query, 
"  Are  we  all  right,  WiUiam  ?  " 

'*  Sure,"  he  would  reply. 

"Don't  forget,  Wilham,  that  I  am  relying  upon 
you  entirely.  You  assure  me  that  you  are  perfectly 
familiar  with  the  place  ?  " 

"  Why  that's  the  reason  I  am  here  to  see  that  you 
don't  miss  the  boat." 

He  scoffed  at  any  idea  of  losing  the  track ;  had  he 
not  hved  hereabouts  for  years,  and  did  he  not  know 
every  yard  of  the  way  ? 

It  was  getting  very  hot,  and  as  we  mended  our 
pace  I  was  perspiring  from  every  pore,  plodding 
along  under  the  blazing  sun.  Still  that  blanket  of 
cotton  wool  obliterated  every  trace  of  the  valley 
below.  Surely  we  must  be  within  measurable 
distance  of  the  landing.  Beginning  to  realize  that 
the  hour  fixed  for  the  steamer  to  start  was  rapidly 
approaching,  the  confidence  reposed  in  my  guide 
perceptibly  weakened ;  but  still  he  endeavoured 
to  reassure  me  that  we  only  had  to  press  on  in  order 
to  reach  the  Landing,  which  was  close  at  hand. 
A  further  long  stretch  at  a  quickened  speed  brought 
us  no  nearer  our  goal.  Quite  uncanny  !  Clear  as 
crystal  above,  but  enveloped  in  maddening  mystery 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  283 

all  the   way  which  should  bring  our   objective  in 
view. 

"  What  was  that,  William  ?  Surely  it  was  a 
whistle  :  the  steamer  whistle  ?  Which  is  the  way  ? 
Is  it  this  way  or  that  way  ?  " 

He  stared  at  me  vacantly,  saying,  "  I  don't  know." 

Nothing  to  be  seen  but  endless  miles  of  thick 
white  mist,  and  yet  underneath  it  somewhere  was 
the  last  steamer  of  the  year,  just  about  to  start. 
The  captain  had  warned  us  days  before  that  on  no 
account  could  he  delay  his  departure  as  there  was  a 
risk  of  the  "  fairway  "  being  frozen  over  at  any 
moment,  and  of  his  steamer  with  its  freight  being 
held  up  and  stuck  there  until  the  following  spring. 

Here  was  I  in  a  light  travelhng  suit,  and  a  pair 
of  thin  shoes,  no  money,  no  anything  !  Our  baggage, 
including  all  the  tickets  and  papers  relating  to  our 
journey  had  been  forwarded  on  to  the  steamer  the 
previous  day  to  avoid  any  possibility  of  delay. 

Following  that  whistle  I  could  just  hear  the  chug- 
chug-chug  of  the  paddle  steamer.  There  was  no 
mistake  about  it,  I  had  missed  the  boat  that  was  to 
convey  me  to  the  train  which  was  to  take  me  to  the 
ship  returning  to  England,  the  last  chance  of  getting 
home.  I  was  left  for  the  duration  of  the  war.  I  was 
lost  in  the  mountains  all  alone  with  a  lunatic  !  No 
good  going  back  to  the  Springs — the  camp  had  been 
broken  up,  every  stitch  of  clothing  and  all  my 
possessions  were  aboard  that  boat,  and  it  had  gone. 

I  turned  to  kill  Wilham,  but  he  exhibited  no  more 
emotion  than  a  man  betrays  who  watches  the 
departure  of  the  Brixton  'bus,  knowing  that  another 
will  follow  inside  two  minutes.    It  was  an  obvious 


284       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

waste  of  useful  breath  to  curse  the  stupidity  of  a 
loony  like  this,  so  directing  him  sternly  to  make  the 
ascent  of  one  of  the  adjacent  heights,  and  on  no 
account  to  lose  sight  of  me  for  a  moment,  I  pro- 
ceeded to  climb  a  similar  point  of  vantage  in  another 
direction,  having  instructed  him  to  signal  to  me  if 
any  sign  of  life  appeared.  This  project  did  not 
promise  to  provide  much  comfort,  but  I  was  so  sick 
of  the  mere  sight  of  the  creature,  it  reheved  my 
feelings  to  be  rid  of  him. 

Feeling  furious  with  myself  for  having  been  such 
a  fool  as  to  trust  this  half-witted  yokel,  and  scanning 
the  various  hill-tops  for  any  sign  of  life  in  that  vast 
wilderness,  I  espied  the  sudden  apparition  of  a  speck, 
resembling  a  tiny  ant  on  a  giant  ant-hill.  It  was  a 
man  standing  up  in  a  motor-car  on  the  highest  peak 
within  our  range,  and  he  was  signalling  to  me  to 
meet  him  in  the  valley  at  the  foot  of  his  hill.  That 
Wilham  had  seen  him  also  was  quite  clear  as  we 
met  by  the  waiting  car. 

The  chauffeur  was  a  Frenchman,  named  Louis, 
the  owner  of  the  car  an  American,  Mr.  Maclean, 
engaged  in  running  an  orchard  developing  company 
some  twenty  miles  away  from  our  camp.  They 
had  once  visited  the  Radium  Hot  Springs  and  spent 
the  day  there.  Observing  then  that  the  Frenchman 
was  quite  superior  to  the  usual  run  of  chauffeurs,  I 
had  taken  the  pains  to  show  him  some  slight  civility. 
It  appeared  that  on  the  morning  of  our  departure  he 
had  driven  Maclean  to  the  Landing  to  bid  us  fareweU, 
and  when  our  party  had  settled  themselves  on  board 
the  steamer  it  was  discovered  that  I  was  missing. 
The   captain   had   delayed  starting  until  the   last 


BRITISH  COLUMBIA  285 

possible  moment,  and  then  had  informed  St.  John 
that  he  was  very  sorry,  but  really  he  could  wait  no 
longer,  and  whatever  might  have  happened  to  me 
there  was  nothing  else  for  it  but  to  get  under  way. 

The  chauffeur  who  had  brought  the  party  from  the 
Springs  was  despatched  in  his  car  to  make  a  thorough 
search  of  the  surrounding  country  in  the  hope  of 
finding  me,  but  had  obviously  failed  to  do  so. 
Louis,  starting  on  his  own,  had  experienced  better 
luck.  But  what  were  we  to  do  ?  The  boat  had 
already  been  gone  an  hour. 

**  There  is  only  one  thing  to  do,"  said  Louis.  "  I 
know  a  short  cut  to  the  Orchard  Landing.  It  is  a 
terribly  rough  road,  but  if  you  don't  mind  being 
bumped  about  a  bit  there  is  just  a  remote  possibihty 
of  our  getting  there  in  time." 

I  promptly  took  my  place  in  the  car.  William  also 
jumped  in  from  the  other  side,  hastily  enquiring 
where  we  were  going.  "  Orchard  Landing,"  said 
Louis.  William  only  ejaculated  :  "  Oh,  hell !  "  and 
leapt  out  of  the  car.  I  was  to  learn  later  that  he 
wandered  about  in  the  mountains  and  was  missing 
for  a  fortnight.  That  motor  ride — it  was  really  an 
obstacle  race — to  the  Orchard  Landing  was  the 
jumpiest  bit  of  car  travel  I  have  ever  undertaken. 

On  our  arrival  we  discovered  that  the  steamer 
had  struck  a  snag  higher  up  and  had  been  delayed 
an  hour.  When  she  arrived  I  stepped  joyfully 
aboard.  From  there  to  Golden  as  we  progressed 
down  the  river  there  was  arrayed  a  gorgeous  vision 
of  the  immensity,  beauty  and  grandeur  of  the 
Rockies,  majestic  in  the  silence  of  their  glittering, 
crystal  crown  of  everlasting  snow. 


CHAPTER   XIX 


THE    "PUNCH   bowl" 


ONE  of  these  days  a  bonnie  book  will  be 
written  about  Clubland  all  the  world 
over.  For  all  I  know  such  a  book  may 
already  be  in  existence,  but  I  think  it 
still  remains  to  be  written — a  really  great  book 
dealing  with  the  famous  clubs  in  all  quarters  of  the 
lobe.  Lest  all  contemporary  record  of  the  annals 
of  one  of  the  queerest  clubs  ever  founded  should  be 
lost,  it  seems  fitting  that  as  one  of  the  original 
members  I  should  attempt  in  a  modest  way  to 
describe  some  features  of  its  fitful,  brief  and  lurid  life. 
The  "  Punch  Bowl  "  owed  its  inception  to  the 
personal  and  peculiar  enterprise  of  Percy  Wood. 
Previous  to  founding  this  club,  he  had  displayed 
considerable  promise  as  a  sculptor  ;  in  fact  he  had 
by  industrious  application  to  his  profession  amassed 
quite  a  useful  sum  of  money.  With  his  savings, 
amounting  in  all  to  about  £8000,  he  took  himself 
to  Monte  Carlo  with  the  intention  of  exploiting  a 
system  by  which  he  felt  confident  of  breaking  the 
bank.  As  usually  happens,  the  bank  broke  him,  and 
he  was  compelled  to  appeal  to  the  "  Administration  " 
for  the  "  viatique  "  to  cover  the  expenses  of  his 
return  journey  to  London. 

Creeping  crestfallen  down  the  steps  of  the  Casino, 

286 


THE  "  PUNCH  BOWL  "  287 

he  encountered  an  old  friend  who  was  curious  to  know 
the  reason  for  his  hurried  departure,  and  who,  on 
learning  the  story  of  his  defeat,  volunteered  not  only 
to  discharge  his  indebtedness  to  the  "  Administra- 
tion," but  also  to  advance  a  sum  of  money  sufficient 
to  make  it  worth  his  while  to  woo  Dame  Fortune 
afresh.  But  she  was  coy.  Wood's  borrowed  capital 
quickly  passed  into  the  coffers  of  the  Casino,  and 
within  a  very  few  hours  he  found  himself  under 
the  humiliating  necessity  of  appearing  before  the 
council  of  the  Casino  to  claim  the  "dole"  for  the 
second  time  in  the  same  afternoon. 

Returning  a  sadder,  if  not  a  wiser  man,  to  his 
studio  in  London,  he  found  that  sculpture  was  a 
wretched,  laborious  substitute  for  a  frenzied,  absorb- 
ing passion  such  as  gambling  undoubtedly  is.  King 
Alcohol  is  a  clumsy  lout,  and  even  the  love  of  a  lad 
for  his  lass  counts  for  Httle  when  this  crazy  lust  for 
gold  gains  complete  possession  of  a  man's  soul. 
And  so  it  was  that  Percy  Wood  evolved  the  notion 
of  repairing  the  shreds  of  his  tattered  finances  by  a 
scheme  to  run  a  mimic  Monte  Carlo  in  the  peaceful 
purlieus  of  Marylebone. 

Qualified  croupiers  were  engaged,  with  all  the 
paraphernalia  of  a  fully  furnished  roulette  room. 
Nothing  was  forgotten.  You  could  dine  and  wine 
regardless  of  cost.  A  modest  entrance  fee  made  you 
free  of  all  the  resources  of  an  excellently  appointed 
club.  But  alas  !  Alack  !  Percy  Wood,  all  un- 
mindful of  his  doom,  had  neglected  to  learn  the 
rigid,  guiding  rule  of  the  parent  institution,  and 
relaxed  the  one  indispensable  regulation  which  must 
govern  all  gaming  tables.    No  credit  ! 


288       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

The  players  who  won  were  paid  in  full,  but  many 
who  lost  ran  into  debt  to  the  bank,  and  these  losses 
were  found  so  difficult  to  recover  that  Wood's  toy 
Palais  de  Jeu  had  perforce  to  make  way  for  a  project 
founded  on  a  more  practical  basis. 

He  next  took  over  some  photographic  premises  in 
Regent  Street,  and  opened  out  there  with  all  the 
costly  apparatus  of  a  first-class  society  photographer. 
The  excellent  waiting-rooms  became  frequented  by 
all  and  sundry,  and  gradually  a  small  coterie  of  his 
friends  made  quite  a  habit  of  dropping  in  of  an 
afternoon — to  such  an  extent,  as  to  become  an 
obvious  encroachment  on  his  lavish  hospitality. 
And  so  it  came  about  that  a  small  club  was  pro- 
jected, the  favourite  tipple  being  drawn  from  the 
residue  of  the  cellar  of  a  famous  old  restaurant  in 
adjacent  premises,  known  as  Blanchard's  of  Beak 
Street,  which  was  going  out  of  business,  and  occupied 
the  site  of  the  present  Murray's  Club.  The  magnifi- 
cent old  wooden  bowl  which  gave  the  club  its  name, 
and  the  oak  settee  upon  the  back  of  which  are 
inscribed  the  names  of  the  founders  and  original 
members  of  the  "  Bowl,"  are  now  in  the  possession 
of  the  Savage  Club,  presented  by  my  friend  Malcolm 
Roberts. 

The  business  end  of  the  **  Punch  Bowl  "  was 
propped  up  in  a  very  sketchy  fashion ;  some  members 
paid  their  subscriptions,  but  the  majority  did  not, 
although  they  were  all  very  clever,  amusing,  good 
fellows,  and  if  you  hked  sta3dng  up  all  night,  it  was 
not  thought  extraordinary  as  other  members  did  the 
same.  Financial  difficulties  arose  as  a  matter  of 
course.     If   any   little   sum   of  ready   money  was 


THE  "  PUNCH  BOWL  "  289 

urgently  required  by  the  founder  of  the  club,  "  three 
line  whips  "  had  to  be  circulated  as  when  the  land- 
lord, the  distiller,  brewer,  or  wine-merchant  pressed 
for  payment.  When  the  trouble  became  acute  and 
the  sheriff's  merry  men  took  possession,  Percy  Wood 
promptly  disguised  them  as  servants,  and  so  the 
club  was  rarely  without  an  efficient  staff. 

Percy  had  a  passion  for  pilgrimages  to  the 
Caledonian  Market,  and  considerable  taste  in  the 
arrangement  of  all  the  quaint  and  curious  oUa 
podrida  he  collected  every  Friday  from  that 
Frenchified  fair  ;  which  is  hke  a  country  market 
with  all  the  merchandize  dumped  on  the  cobbles. 
Duchess  and  dago,  countess  and  costermonger 
jostle  and  chatter  like  a  flock  of  seagulls  over  the 
flotsam  and  jetsam  flung  on  the  ground — a  queer 
sight,  quite  unhke  anything  else  to  be  seen  around 
London.  But  not  only  was  Wood  a  buyer,  he  was 
also  a  seller.  At  the  season  when  other  clubs  close 
for  the  annual  cleaning  operations,  the  "  Punch 
Bowl  "  followed  the  fashion  so  far  as  to  the  closing 
of  its  doors.  This  permitted  the  dust  to  settle  and 
gave  the  proprietor  opportunity  for  a  few  weeks' 
hoUday,  during  which,  arrayed  as  a  pedlar  with  a 
tray  filled  with  cheap  trinkets  strapped  in  front  of 
him,  he  tramped  about  the  country,  from  viUage  to 
village,  supping  and  sleeping  wherever  he  found 
himself  ;  Hving  on  the  meagre  profits  from  the  sale 
of  his  wares.  He  would  walk  back  into  London  the 
picture  of  health,  looking  years  younger,  unfasten 
the  padlock  from  the  door  of  the  club-house,  and 
resume  his  happy-go-lucky  life  as  patron  of  the 
"  Bowl." 


290        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

He  rarely  ventured  forth  from  his  fastness  in 
Clubland,  and  then  only  to  a  cabman's  shelter, 
known  as  the  "  Junior  Turf,"  situated  outside  the 
Green  Park,  nearly  opposite  Bath  House  in  Picca- 
dilly. There,  at  any  hour  could  be  obtained  an 
excellent,  succulent  chop,  steak,  or  bacon  and  eggs. 
Percy  was  held  in  high  esteem  by  cabmen  of  every 
rank.  He  wore  a  coat  fitted  with  the  most  volu- 
minous side  pockets,  in  which  he  could  conceal  a 
considerable  quantity  of  the  club's  whisky,  made  up 
in  stout  little  round  bottles  containing  quite  a 
comfortable  cabby's  nightcap.  This  tended  to 
maintain  the  popularity  he  enjoyed  among  the  cab- 
drivers  of  that  period.  He  employed  them  with 
great  regularity  as  collectors  of  revenue,  the  upkeep 
of  the  "  Punch  Bowl  "  being  constantly  in  need  of 
replenishment. 

At  one  period  the  exchequer  became  so  depleted 
that  the  banisters  of  the  staircase  were  wrenched 
out  for  firewood  and  eventually  occasional  stairs 
were  chopped  up  for  kindling  and  great  care  had  to 
be  exercised  by  the  less  athletic  "  Bowlers "  in 
threading  their  way  from  one  floor  to  another.  A 
temporary  slump  in  supplies  of  whisky  on  one 
occasion  was  made  good  by  Percy  Wood  obtaining 
a  loan  from  the  gold  plate  supporting  his  false  teeth, 
and  when  a  hurried  moonlight  removal  from  the 
premises  in  Regent  Street  became  necessary,  a  fleet 
of  four-wheelers  was  chartered  to  convey  the 
chattels  of  the  club  to  its  new  home  in  Wells  Street, 
where  the  "  Bowl  "  blossomed  out  afresh  with  a 
billiard-table. 

An  ingenious  notion,  saving  the  expense  of  a  hall- 


THE  "  PUNCH  BOWL  "  291 

porter,  was  the  supply  of  a  latchkey  to  each  member, 
who  was  thereby  enabled  to  make  use  of  his  club 
without  restriction  at  any  hour  of  the  day  or  night. 
This  was  a  convenience  much  appreciated  by  the 
less  affluent  "  Bowlers  " — shelter  and  refreshment 
being  always  available,  a  veritable  home  from  home. 
There  were  many  attempts  to  establish  the  club's 
finances  on  a  sounder  basis,  but  Percy  Wood  reso- 
lutely set  his  face  against  any  interference  in  his 
administration  of  the  club's  affairs.  In  fact,  such 
was  the  power  of  his  personality  that  after  his  death 
it  was  found  impossible  to  carry  on  without  him,  and 
what  might  have  formed  the  nucleus  of  a  famous 
club  was  allowed  to  fade  and  fritter  out  of  existence. 

A  many-sided  man  of  much  ability  was  Van  der 
Weyde  who,  for  some  years,  had  been  perhaps 
the  foremost  photographer  of  famous  people.  The 
pictures  he  took  of  Irving,  Nansen  and  other  men 
of  that  period  have  never  been  surpassed.  He 
enjoyed  a  period  of  considerable  prosperity,  but 
was  devoured  by  a  passion  for  invention  of  every 
sort  and  kind,  and  poured  the  profits  he  derived 
from  his  excellent  business  into  mad  schemes  for 
exploiting  ingenious  but  utterly  impracticable  ideas, 
quite  foreign  to  his  legitimate  calling. 

I  remember  one  scheme  into  which  he  thrust  all 
his  energies.  It  was  in  the  early  days  of  the  motor- 
car, and  he  became  obsessed  with  the  belief  that 
the  only  real  obstacle  to  the  adoption  of  the 
motor  by  every  householder  was  the  difficulty 
of  finding  a  suitable  garage  in  the  immediate 
vicinity  of   his  dwelling.     To  meet  this  objection 


292        RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

Van  der  Weyde  designed  a  collapsible  car  which, 
upon  the  release  of  a  powerful  spring,  could  be 
reduced  in  width  by  a  sort  of  telescopic  axle  or 
swivel  action,  similar  in  principle  to  that  which 
governs  the  ordinary,  ebony  parallel  rulers.  It 
increased  the  length  of  the  car  but  reduced  its  width. 
By  this  ingenious  arrangement  Van  der  Weyde 
hoped  to  sell  a  car  to  every  householder  whose 
garden  gate  was  wide  enough  to  afford  passage  for 
a  good-sized  perambulator,  garden  roller,  or  wheel- 
barrow. The  car  could  readily  be  restored  to  its 
normal  condition  by  the  use  of  a  powerful  lever 
which  brought  it  back  into  position  with  a  click. 

It  was  pointed  out  to  the  inventor  that  rigidity 
was  the  important  factor  in  the  safety  of  all  cars, 
but  nothing  could  move  him  from  his  conviction 
that  his  invention  solved  the  only  great  problem 
barring  the  universal  sale  of  the  motor-car.  A 
company  was  formed,  and  a  specimen  car  built. 
His  power  of  persuasion  had  induced  a  brother 
"  Savage,"  Charles  Bertram,  the  famous  conjuror, 
to  invest  the  bulk  of  his  little  savings  in  the  concern. 
But  the  business,  like  the  car,  collapsed,  and  litiga- 
tion between  the  inventor  and  his  chief  capitalist 
swallowed  up  what  remained  of  their  flotation 
funds.  The  excellent  photographic  connection  went 
to  pieces  through  the  neglect  of  its  proprietor,  and 
poor  Charles  Bertram's  health  gave  way,  and  he 
died  in  reduced  circumstances.  Thus  two  men, 
quite  remarkable  in  their  respective  callings,  frittered 
away  the  fruits  of  their  labours  upon  a  fantastic 
venture,  which  a  little  cold  reason  would  have 
demonstrated  to  be  futile  and  impracticable. 


THE  "  PUNCH  BOWL  "  293 

Charles  Bertram  was  a  lovable  fellow,  and  during 
the  time  I  was  painting  his  portrait  told  me  many 
stories  of  his  strange  career.  In  his  early  married 
days  he  was  a  partner  in  a  public-house  business, 
and  a  most  prosperous  concern  it  was  until,  through 
some  process  or  other,  he  became  involved  in  costly 
litigation  which  reduced  him  to  a  condition  of 
absolute  ruin.  This  was  a  serious  state  of  things 
for  a  man  saddled  with  a  wife  and  family  of  young 
children,  accustomed  to  all  the  comforts  of  a  well- 
ordered  house.  Something  had  to  be  done,  and 
that  quickly. 

He  had  been  in  the  habit  for  some  years— just  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing — of  performing  card  tricks  and 
other  exhibitions  of  sleight  of  hand,  at  which  he  was 
accounted  quite  a  "  star  turn,"  at  small  social 
functions  confined  to  the  immediate  circle  of  his  own 
friends,  never  thinking  that  it  would  ever  be 
necessary  to  utihze  this  accomplishment  as  a  means 
of  making  his  livelihood.  But  the  pressing  nature 
of  his  situation  called  for  some  practical  solution. 
Any  idea  of  getting  into  debt  was  repugnant  to  his 
proud  spirit. 

Pondering  over  this  knotty  problem,  he  found 
himself  one  day  turning  the  corner  of  St.  James's 
Street,  into  Pall  Mall.  Across  the  way  stood 
Marlborough  House.  Charles  Bertram,  seized  by 
a  sudden  impulse,  crossed  the  road,  rang  the  bell, 
and  informed  the  flunkey  who  opened  the  door  that 
he  desired  to  see  the  Prince  of  Wales.  Now  Bertram 
was  a  man  of  excellent  manner  and  presence,  always 
scrupulously  and  faultlessly  dressed,  and  the  servant 
was  so  impressed  by  his  personality  that  he  put  him 


u 


294       RECOLLECTIONS  OF  A  SAVAGE 

into  communication  with  some  person  of  importance 
in  the  household.  This  official,  after  listening  to 
his  application,  was  compelled  to  impress  upon 
Bertram  that  the  whole  matter  was  a  violation  of 
the  rules  which  directed  the  entourage  of  a  royal 
personage. 

While  the  business  was  being  discussed,  it  so 
happened  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  crossed  the  hall 
on  his  way  to  his  carriage,  and  seeing  one  of  his  staff 
engaged  in  animated  talk  with  a  stranger,  enquired 
what  the  difficulty  was.  The  official  informed  His 
Royal  Highness  that  the  gentleman,  Mr.  Charles 
Bertram,  was  sure  that  the  Prince  of  Wales  would 
be  interested  in  some  wonderful  tricks  with  cards 
at  which  he  was  an  expert.  To  the  surprise  of  all 
who  were  present  the  Prince,  ever  a  sportsman  and 
a  keen  judge  of  character,  waived  for  the  moment 
all  precedent  and  formality,  and  commanded  Mr. 
Charles  Bertram  to  appear  after  dinner  that  evening. 
It  happened  to  be  the  night  upon  which  the  Prince 
entertained  the  members  of  the  Jockey  Club. 

Bertram's  "show"  before  his  distinguished  audience 
was  a  huge  success,  and  was  the  prelude  to  numerous 
subsequent  engagements  by  Royal  Command.  It 
brought  him  endless  work  of  similar  character,  and 
he  became  from  henceforth  Prince  of  Entertainers. 
In  fact,  until  a  painful  illness  terminated  his  life 
in  1912,  he  was  without  a  rival  in  his  own  Hne. 

During  one  of  his  numerous  engagements  at  the 
old  "  Tivoli,"  in  the  Strand,  I  encountered  Charles 
Bertram  in  the  Savage  Club  just  after  his  "  show," 
and  noticed  his  genial  affabihty  had  been  con- 
siderably ruffled.    He  told  me  that  during  his  "  turn  " 


THE  "  PUNCH  BOWL  "  295 

he  had  as  usual  invited  a  member  of  the  audience 
to  step  on  to  the  stage  to  act  as  confederate  in  the 
performance  of  one  of  his  tricks.  As  was  his  custom, 
he  had  ventured  to  indulge  in  a  little  good-natured 
badinage  at  the  expense  of  his  victim,  but  had 
been  completely  nonplussed  by  the  man's  absurd 
behaviour,  to  which  the  audience,  with  quick 
appreciation  of  the  ridiculous,  had  responded  with 
shouts  of  laughter.  Bertram  had  been  fairly  out- 
witted and  was  glad  to  get  quit  of  him.  When  the 
curtain  rang  down  Charhe  enquired  of  the  stage 
hands  who  the  "  Tomfool  "  was  who  had  given  him 
so  much  trouble.  "  Why,  Sir,  don't  you  know  him  ? 
.  .  .  That  was  Whimsical  Walker."  This  was  the 
Drury  Lane  clown,  who  is  as  celebrated  in  his  own 
line  as  Bertram  was  in  his. 

Bertram  lived  in  a  charming  house  at  Streatham, 
with  a  beautiful  garden,  and  being  an  excellent 
host,  ever  hospitably  inclined,  he  gave  a  great  party 
to  the  bulk  of  his  brother  "  Savages."  The  garden 
was  illuminated  and  the  fun,  which  was  fast  and 
furious,  lasted  until  the  sun  began  to  shine.  Clearing 
up  the  remains  of  the  feast  later  on  in  the  day,  the 
servants  found  not  only  empty  platters  and  bottles, 
but  also  very  full  "  Savages,"  still  slumbering  peace- 
fully under  every  shrub. 


LAST    WORD 

IF  it  be  true  that  it  is  difficult  to  speak  the  truth 
without  being  unkind,  I  can  only  pray  to  be  for- 
given ;  for  no  man  alive  has  ever  received  so 
much  kindness — or  required  it. 
Times  without  number,  crushed  in  spirit  and 
**  broke  to  the  wide,"  I  have  dragged  my  weary 
feet  towards  Adelphi  Terrace.  There  I  have  ever 
found  the  sweetest  sympathy.  They  cannot  give 
you  money  .  .  .  they  haven't  got  any  .  .  .  but 
they  give  you  half  of  it. 

"  Ah  !  the  Club  is  not  what  it  was  !  " 
How  often  has  this  been  dinned  into  my  ears  ! 
Of  course  it  isn't ;  everything  changes  ;  even  the 
Savage  is  different — but  it  remains  very  good. 
The  members  of  it  still  retain  the  old  spirit  of  good 
fellowship  and  fraternity,  imbued  with  the  feeling 
that  they  have  the  honour  of  belonging  to  the  only 
Club  in  the  world  ;  and  though  brothers  in  the  best 
sense  of  the  word — and  all  it  means — they  each 
preserve  those  striking  personal  characteristics  which 
serve  to  form  a  collection  of  interesting  humanity 
not  easy  to  match  in  any  other  community. 

Many  of  them  of  such  quality ! — ^it  seems  hard  to 
beUeve  our  little  world  could  keep  on  turning  round 
without  them.  But  when,  alas  !  the  time  comes  for 
them  to  go,  as  come  it  must,  they  leave  behind  them 
an  imperishable  memory. 

296 


INDEX 


INDEX 


Abbey,  Edwin  A.,  107 

Abercorn,  Duchess  of,  enter- 
tained by  Cecil  Rhodes, 
222,  223 

Aberdeen,  Countess  of,  236 

Aberdeen,  Earl  of,  Lord-Lieu- 
tenant of  Ireland,  sits  for 
his  portrait  to  Mr.  Ward, 
228-36 

Alexander,  Sir  George — 
description  of,  50,  51 
entreats  Oscar  Wilde  not  to 
return  to  England  to  stand 
his  trial,  52 
launches  Oscar  Wilde  on  his 
career  as  dramatist,  51 

Anderson,  Mary,  156 

Anderson,  engineer,  164 

Andrews,  Capt.,  129 

Anson,  Lord,  chief  A.D.C.  to 
Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ire- 
land, 333 

Armour,  G.  D.,  viii 

Arnold,  Charles,  actor  and 
singer,  8 

B 

Balfour,  Earl  of,  portrait 
painted  by  Mr.  Ward  for 
Sir  Henry  Lucy,  219,  238 

Barrett,  Billy,  10 

Bartlett,  W.  H.,  viii 

Bayliss,  Wyke,  succeeds  Whist- 
ler as  President  of  the 
Society  of  British  Artists, 
256,  257 


Beardsley,  Aubrey,  receives  an 
unexpected  apology  from 
Whistler,  266,  267 
Becoby,  Mayor  of  Retford,  89 
Beira  Railway,  the,  39,  40 
Belcher,  George,  viii 
Bertram,  Charles — • 

and  Phil  May,  26,  27,  33 
begins  his  career  as  enter- 
tainer, 293  ,  294 
calls    on    Prince    of    Wales 

(Edward  VII),  293,  294 
death  of,  292 
his  parties,  33,  295 
loses  savings  in  invention  of 

Van  der  Weyde,  292 
nonplussed  by  "  Whimsical 
Walker,"  295 
Bispham,  210 
Black,  William,  novelist,  155, 

156 

Blathwayt,  Raymond — 
his  tour  in  India,  126-41 
visits  Mr.  Ward,  122-5 

Bhnd,  Rudolph,  98 

Blucher,  Prince,  owner  of  is- 
land of  Herm,  45 

Booth,  Edwin,  actor,  37 

Boyes,  Fred,  journalist,  his 
portrait  painted  by  Mr. 
Ward,  80,  81 

Boyes,  Mrs.,  80,  81 

Brinklcy,  Captain,  member  of 
Legation  at  Tokio,  169 

Britten,  W.  E.  F.,  artist— 
a    disappointed    and    unap- 
preciated man,  48,  96 


299 


300 


INDEX 


Britten, W.  E.  F.,  artist — con. — 
and  Volunteer  Colonel,  54 
calls  on  Oscar  Wilde,  100 
description  of,  53,  54 
heads     raid    upon    Wyfold 

Court,  58-69 
his  behaviour  to  C.  Marshall, 

56,57 
impecuniosity  of  ,  54 

invites  Sir  D.  Salamons  to 

dinner,  53 
on    council   for    Reform    of 
Royal  Academy,  261 
Brough,  Lionel,  actor,  one  of 
Founders  of  Savage  Club,  5 
Brown,  Fred,  artist,  261 
Burgess,  artist,  253 
Burgin,  G.  B.,  author,  266 
Burnand,  Sir  Francis, Editor  of 
"  Punch  "— 
description  of,  244 
his  fury  at  street  music,  244 
his  portrait  painted  by  Mr. 
Ward  for  Sir  Henry  Lucy, 
237,  238,  244,  245 
his  views  on  art,  244,  245 
Burne- Jones,  Sir  Edward,  251, 

253 
Burne- Jones,  Sir  PhiHp,  253 
Burns,      John,     his      portrait 

painted  by  Mr.  Ward,  228 
Burton,  Professor  W.  K.,  host 

of    Mr.    Ward    in    Tokio, 

169-71,  184-7,  190-4 
Burton,  Mrs.,  184-7, 190 
Butler,    General   Sir   William, 

240,  241 


Cable,  Mr.  Boyd,  vii 
Caine,  W.  S.,  M.P.,  86 
Calderon,  artist,  252 
"  Caledonia,"  s.s.,  129 
Carr,  J.  Comyns,  dramatist,  48, 

49 
Castleton,  Lord,  229,  230 


Cavendish,  Lord  Frederick, 
death  of,  233 

Chamberlain,  Joseph — 
and  Rhodes,  225 
his  portrait  painted  by  Mr. 
Ward  for  Sir  Henry  Lucy, 
238 

Chambers,  Sir  Thomas,  Re- 
corder of  the  City  of 
London,  82 

Chaplin,  Charlie,  note,  32 

Chapman,  picture  frame  maker, 

257 
Chelsea  Arts  Club,  103 

Christie,    Jimmie,    artist,    31, 

104,  261 

Churchill,  Lord  Randolph,  his 

portrait    painted   by   Mr. 

Ward,  237 

Churchill,  Rt.  Hon.  Winston — 

anecdote  of,  237 

Rhodes'  high  opinion  of,  237 

Clausen,  George,  artist,  261 

Cleary,  Edwin — 

at  Olympia,  38,  39 

death  of,  47 

engages  in  Portuguese  plot, 45 

his  failure  with  aeronautical 

display  at  Los  Angeles,  39, 

40 

his  plan  for  development  of 

Herm,  45,  46 

his  scheme  for  stadium  on 

roof   of   Victoria   Station, 

44.45 
invents  wonderful  lamp,  47 

organizes     "  Savage     South 
Africa,"  38 

reports  on  radium  mine,  40-2 

versatility  of,  37,  38 

vivacity  of,  36,  37 
Clemens,  S.  L  (Mark  Twain) — 

as  conversationalist,  247-9 

his  dislike  of  Rhodes,  250 

sits  to  Mr.  Ward  for  his  por- 
trait, 246-51 


INDEX 


301 


Clemens,  Mrs.,  247 

Cochran,  C.  B.,  37 

Colley,  Sir  George,  130 

Coquelin  210 

Corbould,    artist    on    staff    of 

"  Punch,"  26 
ComwalUs-West,  Mrs.,  108 
Cowen,  Joseph,  238 
Crane,  Walter,  253,  261 

D 

Delmar,  Alaricus,  22,  23 
Dewar,  Lord,  33 
Dilke,  Sir  Charles,  100,  226 
Dolhng,  Father,  his  friendship 

with  Lord  Northchffe  211, 

212 
Dufferin,  Marquis  of,  90 
Dunn,    secretary    to    W.    G. 

Wills,  105-7 


East  Ayton,  70 

Eccles,  Dr.  Symons,  18-20 

"  Edgar,"  H.M.S.,  195,  196 

Edward  VII— 
and  Bertram,  294 
and  Oscar  Wilde,  50 
at  Grosvenor  Gallery,  48-50 
first  Royal  "  Savage,"  6 
nominates  Odell  as  one  of 
Brethren  of  Charterhouse, 

visits  Frank  Miles,  108 
visits    Savage    Club    when 
Prince  of  Wales,  6 
Evans,  Bernard,  artist,  61,  65 


Fildes,  Sir  Luke,  has  rupture 
with  Rhodes  over  painting 
his  portrait,  223,  224 

Fletcher,  Mr.  H.,  69 


Foli,  Signor,  78 

Forbes,  Archibald,  War  Corre- 
spondent, 239,  240 
Frith,  W.  B.,  251,  252 
Furse,  Charles,  artist,  i,  223 


Gatacre,  General,  129,  130 

George  V — 
marriage  of,  29 
visits    Savage    Club    when 
Prince  of  Wales,  6,  7 

George,  writer  on  staff  of 
"  Graphic,"  29 

Gilbert,  Alfred,  sculptor,  253-5 

Gilbert,  W.  S.,  one  of  Foun- 
ders of  Savage  Club,  5 

Gilchrist,  Connie,  263 

Gladstone,  Rt.  Hon.  W.  E.— 
and  Parnell,  241 
visits  Irving  at  Lyceum,  243, 
244 

Godwin,  architect,  107,  108 

Godwin,  I\Irs.,  96,  259 

Graham,  Cuninghame,  228 

Green,  Max,  private  secretary 
to  Lord-Lieutenant  of  Ire- 
land, 230,  231 

Grossmith,  George  (eldest), 
one  of  Founders  of  Savage 
Club,  5,  7 

Grosvenor  Gallery,  the,  48-52, 
81,  205 

Grundy,  Fred,  viii,  6 


H 

Halle,  Charles,  49 
Hamilton,  Sir  Ian,  129-31 
Hardy,  Dudley,  viii,  31 
Harmsworth,  Harold,  207 
Harmsworth,  Mrs.,  mother  of 
Lord  Northclilfe,  204,  207 
Harmsworth,  St.  John — 
description  of,  165 


302 


INDEX 


Harmsworth,  St.  John — con. — 
dines     at     Romano's     with 

Odell,  23,  24 
establishes     Perrier     Water 

works,  166,  167 
in  British  Columbia,  269-85 
injured  in   motor  accident, 

166 
painted  by  Mr.  Ward,  165 
visits  Gilbert  at  Bruges,  254 

Harvey,  Sir  John  Martin,  243 

Hassall,  John,  viii 

Haweis,  Rev.  H.  R.,  98,  99 

Hawksley,  solicitor  to  Char- 
tered Company,  227 

Hemy,  Napier,  251 

Herkomer,  Sir  Hubert,  20,  245 

Herm,  island  of,  45,  46 

Hermon,  Mr.,  58 

Higgs,  Sally,  artist's  model, 
109-21 

Hill,  "  Captain,"  Bond  Street 
tailor,  265 

Hodge,  Mr.  Hermon,  58,  59, 
62-8 

Holl,  Frank,  R.A.,  206 

Hoshino,  193,  194,  196-200 

Huk,  Abdul,  Sirdar,  in  admin- 
istration of  Nizam  of 
Hyderabad,  141-9 

Hume,  Capt.  L.,  Madras  Lan- 
cers, 144 

Hunt,  Holman,  103,  251,  261 


Irving,  Sir  Henry — 

painted  by  Mr.  Ward,  238, 

243 
personality  of,  242,  243 
visited    behind    scenes    by 

Gladstone,  243,  244 


James,  Francis,  128 
Jamsetjee  Tata,  127,  139,  189 


Jealous,  Mrs.  old  friend  of 
Lord  Northcliffe,  207 

Jenkins,  Mr.  Herbert,  vii 

John,  Augustus,  96 

Johnson,  Jim,  farmer  in  British 
Columbia,  269,  270,  278 


K 

Kean,     maidservant     to     Mr. 

Ward,  250 
Kennedy,  Bart,  9,  10 
Kinnaird,  the  late  Lord,  38 


Labouchere,  Henry — 
and  Whistler,  262,  263 
his  advice  to  Sir  J.  Robinson, 

239 
his  views  of  Parnell,  242 

Lord    Rosebery's    apprecia- 
tion of,  238 
sits  to  Mr.  Ward,  238 
Langtry,  Mrs.,  108 
Lee,  Stirling,  103,  261 
Leigh,  Henry  S.,  one  of  Foun- 
ders of  Savage  Club,  5 
Leighton,  Lord,  54,  251,  252 
Lever,   Charles,  anecdotes  of, 

151-3 
Lewis,  Sir  George,  49 

Lindsay,  Sir  Coutts,  proprietor 

of  Grosvenor  Gallery,  48, 

49'  52,  81 
Linnell,  Mr.,  artist,  20 
Lipton,  Sir  Thomas,  208,  209 
Lowther,  Sir  Gerard,  169 
Lucy,  Lady,  81 
Lucy,  Sir  Henry — 
as  host,  81,  246 
commissions    Mr.    Ward   to 

paint    small    portraits    of 

celebrities,   81,   202,   219, 

237'  238 


INDEX 


303 


M 


Macauley,  teamster,  276 
MacDonnell,  Lord,  233 
Manning,  Cardinal,  226 
Mansfield,  Richard,  37 
Marborough,  Duchess  of,  129 
Marborough,  Duke  of,  129 
Marlowe,    Thomas,    editor    of 

"  Daily  Mail,"  242 
Marrow,  Edwin,  viii 
Marsden,  Fredk.,  127 
Marshall,  Charles — 

entertains    Mr.    Ward    and 
Britten,  55-7 

his  portrait  painted  by  Mr. 
Ward,  76 
Marshall,  George,  89-95 
Mary,  Queen,  marriage  of,  29 
May,  Mrs.,  25,  217 
May,  Phil- 
anecdotes  of,  25-35 

and  Odell,  21,  22 

at  work,  34 

his  friendship  with  John  L. 
SulHvan,  12 

his  likeness  to  Pope  Pius  IX, 

34 
last  illness  of,  35 

popularity  of,  30 
McCullagh,  Jenny,  271-7 
McCullagh,  John,  270-8 
McGuckin,  Barton,  230 
McLaughUn,  162 
Meakin,  Mr.  James,  83 
Mei     Sugi,    Japanese    geisha, 

182 
Melba,  210 

Menpes,  Mortimer,  his  friend- 
ship   with    Oscar    Wilde, 
258 
Metcalf,  Sir  Charles,  222 
Methol,  Professor,  tutor  to  St. 

John  Harmsworth,  i()6 
Miles,  Canon,  father  of  Frank 
Miles,  no 


Miles,  Frank,  artist — 

discovers  Sally  Higgs,  artist's 

model,  109 
his  breach  with  Oscar  Wilde, 

III 
his    friendship    with    Oscar 

Wilde,  108-10 
his  sketches  of  Mrs.  Langtry, 

108 
sad  end  of,  112 
success  of,  108 
wane  of  popularity  of,  in 
visited  by  Edward  VII,  108 
Millais,  Sir  J.  E.,  53,  251,  252 
Milner,  Sir  Frederick,  89 
Morgan,  William  de,  97 
Moore,  Albert,  252 
Moore,  Augustus,  262 
Moore,  George,  novelist,  262 
Moore,  Henry,  252 
Morley,  Lord,  portrait  painted 

by  Mr.  Ward,  238 
Morris,  WilHam,  253 
Muddock,  J.  E.  P.,  5 

N 

Nakajima,     Japanese     guide, 

172-83 
Nansen,  Dr.,  243 
Nelson,  William,  281-4 
Ncvill,  Colonel — 

commander    of    troops     to 
Nizam  of  Hyderabad,  149 
disperses  dacoits,  151,  152 
entertains  Mr.  Ward,  149-52 
his  experiences  with  Austrian 
Army,  151,  154 
Nevill,      Mrs.,      daughter     of 
Charles  Lever — 
as  conversationalist,  152-5 
her     anecdotes     of     Daniel 

O'Connell,  153 
holds  mob  of  dacoits,   151, 

Newcastle,  Duke  of,  89,  92 


304 


INDEX 


Nilsson,  Christine,  37 
Northcliffe,  Lord — 
as  author,  212 
as  sitter  to  Mr.  Ward,  204 
at    Elmwood,    his    country 

house,  211-14 
boyish  memories  of,  207 
characteristics  of,  206,  207, 

214,  215 
eulogizes    his    brother     St. 

John, 167 
generosity  of,  207,  208,  216, 

217 
helps   Father   Dolling,   211, 

212 
his  friendship  with  Rhodes, 

208,  218,  220 


O 

O'Connell,  Daniel,  152,  153 

O'Connor,  T.  P.,  97 

Odell,  E.  J.— 

as  humorist,  2,  3,  17 
as  sitter  to  Mr.  Ward,  19,  20 
at  Wyfold  Court,  61-9 
dines  with  St.  John  Harms- 
worth,  24 
escorts  Phil  May  home,  21 
financial  position  of,  18 
nominated  by  Edward  VII 
as    one    of    Brethren    of 
Charterhouse,  25 
popularity  of,  23 

Orrock,  James,  10 

O'Shea,  Captain,  241 

O'Shea,  Mrs.,  241 


Paderewski,  210 

Palmer,  Minnie,  actress,  8 

Paque,     Oliver.       See     Pike, 

William 
Parlett,  Ernest,  169 
Parnell,  Charles  Stewart,  241 


Patey,  Madame,  78 

Patti,  Adelina,  37 

Paulhan,  French  aviator,  39, 40 

Pauling,     George,     friend     of 

Rhodes,  39,  225 
Payn,  James,  novehst,  240,  241 
Pennell,  Joseph,  266 
"  Peshawar,"  s.s.,  195 
Pike,  William,  35,  36 
Pius  IX,  Pope,  34 
Pless,  Princess  Henry  of,  133 
Pollard,  Mr.,  102,  103 
Prinsep,  Valentine,  252 
Prussia,  Prince  Henry  of,  133 
"  Punch  Bowl,"  the,  286-95 

Q 

Queensberry,  Marquis  of,  52 


R 

Rhodes,  Cecil — 

absent-mindedness  of,  209 
and  Furse,  223 
and    Jameson    Raid    Com- 
mission, 225 
and  Sir  Luke  Fildes,  224 
as  host,  221-3 
as  sitter  to  Mr.  Ward,  218-21 

227 
at  De  Beers  Mines  meeting, 

224 
his    appreciation    of    Lord 

NorthcUffe,  208 
his    friendship    with    Lord 

NorthcUffe,  208 
his  mistake  about  Boer  War, 

225 
his     opinion     of     Winston 

Churchill,  237 
Mark  Twain's  hostiUty  to, 

250 
quarrels  with  Alfred  Gilbert, 

255 
Richardson,  E.  W.,  5 


INDEX 


305 


Roberts,  Earl,  131 
Roberts,  Malcolm,  288 
Robertson,  Tom,  one  of  Foun- 
ders of  Savage  Club,  5 
Robinson,  Sir  John — 
and  Archibald  Forbes,  239, 

240 
as  editor  of  "  Daily  News," 

241 
takes     shares     in     "  Daily 

News,"  239 
Rosebery,    Lord,    sits   to    Mr. 

Ward,  238 
Rossetti,  Dante,  96,  105,  252 
Ruskin,  John,  257,  258 
Russell  of  Killowen,  Lord,  his 

portrait    painted    by    Mr. 

Ward,  238 


Sala,  George  Augustus,  one  of 

Founders  of  Savage  Club, 

5.  216 
Salamons,  Sir  David,  55 
Salvini,  37 

Sandys,  Frederick,  106 
Sant,  artist,  251,  252 
Sargent,  John  S.,  107,  245,  246 
Satow,  Sir  Ernest,  169 
Scott,  Mr.,  82 
Scovil,  Judge,  270,  277 
Searelle,  Luscombe,  13,  23,  224 
Shackleton,  Sir  Ernest,  44 
Shannon,  Lady,  vii 
Shannon,  the  late  Sir  James, 

viii,  33.  35.  103,  261 
Sherrington,  Lemmens,  78 
Sicker t,  Mrs.,  128 
Sickcrt,  Walter,  128 
Simpson,  Joseph,  viii 
Sketchley,     Arthur,     one     of 

Founders  of  Savage  Club,  5 
Spencer,  Lord,  233 
Stampa,  George  L.,  viii 
Stanningly,  70,  71 


Stead,  W.  T.,  225-7 
Steer,  Wilson,  261 
Stevens,  Alfred,  253 
Stott,  Mrs.,  258,  259 
Stott,  William,  258-62 
Styles,  Mrs.,  77 
Sullivan,  John  L.,  12 
Sullivan,  Mrs.,  12 
Sutherland,  Sir  Thomas — 
entertains  Whistler,  263-5 
gives  Mr.  Ward  roving  com- 
mission for  Eastern  Tour, 
127 
his  reminiscences  of  Whist- 
ler's breakfast  parties,  266 
mistaken  for  Duke  of  Suther- 
land, 264 
portrait  painted  by  Sargent, 

246 
refuses    to    buy    Whistler's 

sketch,  265 
sits  to  Mr.  Ward,  245 
Sutton,  Sir  George  Augustus, 
231 


Tadema,  Alma,  81,  251 
Teck,  Prince  Francis  of,  133 
Tegetmeyer,    W.    B.,    one    of 
Founders  of  Savage  Club, 

5 
Tenniel,  Sir  John,  238 

Terry,  Miss  Ellen,  243 

Thomas,  Bert,  viii 

Thomas,  Brandon,  17,  18 

Thomas,  Harvard,  261 

Twain,     Mark.       Sec     S.     L. 

Clemens 


V 

Varley,  Nelson,  77,  78 
Victoria,  Ouccn,  her  leniency 

to  \N^G.  Wills,  104 
Victoria    Station,    scheme   for 

stadium  over,  44,  45 


3o6 


INDEX 


W 


Wales,     Edward,     Prince    of, 
visits    Savage    Club    and 
joins  in  Derby  Sweep,  7 
Walker,  "  Whimsical,"  295 
Ward,  Artemus,  one  of  Foun- 
ders of  Savage  Club,  5 
Ward,  Edwin  A. — 

acts    as    A.D.C.     to     Lord 

Aberdeen,  234-6 
and  Sally  Higgs,  11 3-21 
and  St.  John  Harmsworth, 

23,  24,  165 
as  member  of  "  Calling  Club" 

in  Chelsea,  97-100 
at  Radium  Hot  Springs,  159- 

64,  269-85 
at  Yokohama,  194-201 
championed  by  Bart   Ken- 
nedy, 10 
entertains  Blathwayt,  122-6 
escorts  Quaker  round  Savage 

Club,  12-14 
first    portraits    painted    by, 

81-9 
his  early  days  in  London,  80, 

81,88 

his  efforts  to  catch  river  boat 

in  British  Columbia,  281-5 

his  election  to  Savage  Club,  4 

his    encounters    with    Phil 

May,  25,  28,  31-5 
his  experiences  with  Odell, 

17-20 
his    impressions   of   various 
sitters — 
Aberdeen,  Earl  of,  231-3 
Burnand,  Sir  F.,  244 
Burns,  John,  228 
Churchill,  Lord  Randolph, 

237 
Clemens,     S.     L.     (Mark 

Twain),  247-50 

Irving,  Sir  Henry,  243 

Labouchere,  Henry,  238 


Ward,  Edwin  A. — con. — 

Northchffe,  Lord,  204, 206, 

207 
Rhodes,  Cecil,  218-21,  227 
Rosebery,  Lord,  238 
Stead,  W.  T.,  226 
Sutherland,    Sir   Thomas, 

245 
his  journey  to  Bombay,  127- 

32 
his  stay  at  Hyderabad,  141- 

9>  155-8 
his  views  on  Missions,  187- 

in  British  Columbia,  269-85 

in  Dublin,  229-33 

in  India,  132-58 

in  Japan,  168-201 

in  Madeira,  22,  23 

Marshall's  55-7 

partakes  of  tuhp  bulbs,  loi 

raids    Wyfold    Court    with 

brother  Savages,  58-69 
tour  in  East  of  Hyderabad, 

127-201 
visits     Alfred     Gilbert     at 

Bruges,  254 
with  Britten  at  Charles  Mar- 

shaU's,  55-7 
with  Cleary  in  Paris,  41-4 
youthful  days  of,  70-6 
Ward,  Sir  LesUe,  88 
Ward,  Peter,  131 
Warner,  Mr.,  founder  of  Big 

Ben,  84-7 
Warwick,  Countess  of,  226 
Watson,  Aaron,  5 
Watts,  G.  F.,  205,  206,  252,  265 
Wedmore,  Mr.,  art  critic,  258 
Weir,  Harrison,  one  of  Foun- 
ders of  Savage  Club,  5 
Weyde,  Van  der,  291,  292 
Whistler  J.  McNeill- 
anecdotes  of   256-68 
as  President  of  Society  of 
British  Artists,  256,  257 


INDEX 


307 


Whistler,  J.  McNeill— cow. — 
filial  attentions  of,  267 
inscription     on     house     of, 

108 
marriage  of,  259 
quarrelsomeness  of,  258-63, 
266 

Wilde,  Oscar — 
as  dramatist,  51 
cordiality  of  Edward  VII  to, 

50 
his  friendship  with  F.  Miles, 

108-11 
quarrels    with    Miles,    11 1  ; 

and  Whistler,  261 


Willis,  Dick,  141 
Wills,  W.  G.,  dramatist,  104-7 
Wood,  Sir  Evelyn,  131 
Wood,      Percy,      founder     of 
"  Punch  Bowl  "  Club,  286- 

Woodroffe,    friend   of   W.    G. 

Wills,  105,  106 
Wright,  the  Brothers,  40 
Wright,  Whitaker,  90,  227 
Wyndham,  the  late  George,  219 


Yates,  Edmund,  80 


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